Once Upon A Time
by DaniDM
Summary: Pre-HP/Hogwarts-WWII era. Elizabett Castlewood, a Hufflepuff raised in a circle of Slytherins, has created a new course for Hogwarts-Muggle Studies. Follow her adventures, friendships, and loves that lead to a battle between two powerful wizards. R & R.
1. 1 Elizabett

**A/N - Welcome to the world of Albus Dumbledore in a way that you may never have considered. This story can stand on it's own, but was also written as a prequel to the "Creating a Ghost" trilogy. The first chapter is a bit tough to get through as it contains a lot of information, but stick with it. I think you'll enjoy the ride.**

**Dani**

**1 - Elizabett**

Elizabett Morgana Celestia Castlewood was a pure blood witch, so pure that one could investigate for generations without finding a single drop of Muggle or mixed blood in her line. Her family was old, and the sort that had every right to feel the way it did about Muggles. For centuries, they had watched events and retold stories of friends and family members who had been persecuted and who had suffered at the hands of the fearful and ignorant. The stories were horrendous, and were told in a way of a warning to be wary of those who were different from them – different often being exchanged with inferior, depending on who was telling the tale. Many had lost their jobs, lost their homes, lost their lives. Some had fought back only to strengthened the non-magicals' fear of magical folk, but in the end, those who sought vengeance found betrayal in their own government as punishment was issued for what was often considered self-defence. The situation seemed unjust, and the Castlewoods and their small group of friends slowly withdrew to their rural homes. They rarely socialized outside of their circle, and held hope that the Three-Fold Law would one day return the negative energies sent in their direction, and in the future, Muggles would suffer as they had.

~~~***~~~

By the turn of the twentieth century, a large number of Wizard family estates had spread throughout the rolling hills and lake districts of Great Britain, some even reaching south toward the bustling city of London. They lived completely apart from Muggles, and Protective Shields and Muggle Repelling Charms were instinctively and strategically placed to guard their existence from prying eyes. They had certainly lived through enough, and wanted to be left alone to live in peace.

Elizabett was raised in such a society. Social contacts with friends or family members were few and far between. Her parents entertained little and educated the child in a multitude of subjects in the isolation of their home. The massive fields that surrounded the dwelling were a spacious place for Elizabett to run and play, but she was warned never to venture further than the hedgerow that outlined the property. She was a curious child, though, and would often stand at the wrought iron gate at the end of the crushed stone path and watch as the local farmers and their children went about their business, unaware of the lonely child that stood beyond their line of vision. She would imagine what it would be like to talk with them, to have other children to play with, but she also remembered the horrible stories that had been told, and this made Elizabett bolt to the safety and seclusion of her home.

Yet, as cut off as she was, Elizabett loved where she lived. It was pretty, a large, grey stone structure with big windows and jet-black shutters, bright flowers lined the walkway that led to the painted black door, and wonderful window boxes exploded with colour. It was three stories high, with four airy bedrooms on the top most floor. On the second floor was a study for her father that hosted wall-to-wall bookcases, a polished, mahogany desk and a warm fireplace, and across the hall was a brightly lit, well-stocked library. A large, comfortable kitchen was on the main floor where a devoted house elf often scooted her out when she wanted to "help". The sitting room was to the left of the kitchen, and a reception room was to the right. This was one of Elizabett's favourite rooms. It was only used only when company came to visit and was decorated with rich, cranberry-colour velvet draperies that matched the twin wing chairs and settee by the massive stone fireplace. The heavy, wooden mantle was the same dark timber as the dining set that dominated the centre of the room, and a glittering tiffany-style chandelier hung over the table to give just the right ambiance to the chamber. A cranberry, black, and cream-colour area rug covered the dark, hardwood floor and nearly stretched to each wall. The room gave off a warm, inviting feeling, and Elizabett would sometimes sneak in to curl up in the settee to read.

Another one of Elizabett's favourite rooms was not really a room at all but a bright solarium at the back of the house. Her mother grew the most wonderful collection of plants there, and when the sun beamed through the glass, the child would spread her arms to her sides and soak up the energy emitted by the warming rays of the Sun God as he kiss her skin.

As the child grew, Elizabett's abilities became more pronounce, much to the pride of her parents. She was well educated and rapidly devoured the elementary books in the second floor library, and by the time she received her letter from Hogwarts, she had begun the more advanced literature. She had also developed a natural skill for wandless magic and a propensity toward Earth magic. Her mother delighted in this and would invite Elizabett into the solarium, encouraging the talent with the plants that she tended. Elizabett flourished as much as the plants did under such gentle and supportive guidance.

On September first, when the Castlewoods brought their daughter to Platform nine and three quarters, they had no idea how their child would integrate into such a foreign world. There would be so many people, so many new ideas different from their own, but they were confident that their firm foundation and ideals would ground her and lead her on the right path. They held their heads high and waved proudly as their little Elizabett stepped onto the train with the bright red engine. The child nervously returned the wave taking a step into a whole new world.

~~~***~~~

Elizabett's placement in Hufflepuff House shocked many, including her parents, as the Castlewoods were well known Slytherin supporters. But, she proved herself a dedicated, hard-worker who silently took on new challenges and succeeded in all she set out to do – top of her class in all subjects. She was quiet but not entirely withdrawn. Those she had known from the circle were in a different house – Slytherin, and were older than her. Aryanna Malfoy graduated the year Elizabett joined the school. Aryanna was a beautiful girl with long, white-blonde hair, and a pert little nose, but her beauty was marred by the fascist ideals that she held. Evan Rosier, who had bullied Elizabett as a child, graduated the year after, but Thomas Cresswell was only two years ahead of her and took her under his wing, thus forming the one crucial link to her former way of life. His housemates often made fun of him for if was seen as a Slytherin weakness to associate with anyone from Hufflepuff House. This concerned Elizabett, but Thomas would casually wave it off. He was strong-minded enough to make his own decisions. She liked his confidence, and he encouraged her in any field that she took on. When he graduated, it was Elizabett he invited to the Graduation Ball. Then, he would return to visit with her on the occasional Hogsmeade weekend, but they were never more than just friends.

The remaining years flew by as Elizabett buried herself in her studies. She preferred to work alone and had few friends, but was gracious and accepting of others, often tutoring the younger members of her House. The professors loved her for she was focused in her work and could speak intelligently on almost any subject. Although reserved, she was a very articulate young woman, and they often forgot that they were speaking with a student when she was around. Professor Merrythought, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, constantly regaled to the staff the new and interesting ways the little Hufflepuff could defend herself, and she could be counted on to remain even-tempered and calm even in the most trying circumstances. Boring, some would say.

It was during her final year, when the new Transfigurations professor caught her interest. He was an older man; quiet like her, but with a mischievous glint in his light blue eyes that told of a simmering wit brewing gently under the surface. He was a man that her father had mentioned many times at the dinner table, a man who curiously refused to take the position of power as Minister of Magic. His list of achievements was long, and when Elizabett wrote home and told whom her new professor was, her father wrote back underlining the words "Listen to him. He's brilliant." She did as she was told, and her father was right. She would sometimes stop the professor after class to discuss his expertise with the wand, but would skilfully steer the conversation toward his view on Muggles. Sometimes, he would let his guard down, but more often than not, after realizing where the conversation was going, he dismissed her. He had once chuckled that she should have been in Slytherin with such placid cunning.

When Elizabett graduated, she was offered an apprenticeship in Herbology at the school, as it had been a subject she was most proficient at, but she declined. She had an agenda that was preordained from younger years, something that she always knew she would have to do. Elizabett would go into the Muggle world. She wanted to know everything she could possibly know about these people who tried so hard to destroy her world. She wanted to understand, why. She had heard her circle's side, now she needed to know more.

~~~***~~~

The following eight years found Elizabett living near and closely watching the non-magicals. They were odd creatures, and it was no wonder they couldn't get along with wizards when they couldn't even get along with each other. The strife, both on personal and political levels, was unreal. She studied philosophy and religion, politics and social interactions. She read every newspaper and literary piece that was available to her and worked at a variety of Muggle jobs from waiting tables in a small village cafe to clerking at a large, downtown London library. She even ventured abroad to continental Europe to examine the different cultures, meeting new people along the way. The growing understanding and sympathy that she was developing toward those who, for centuries, had been considered the enemy astonished her parents. They couldn't understand her interest and warned her to be careful. She would smile meekly and nod. She was more careful than they knew, and shrewder than they thought. Her experiences had made her strong, and she was confident in her abilities, knowing what she wanted to do.

It was at a family Yule party in Elizabett's twenty-fifth year when she sought out certain individuals who she thought might help. The Blacks were there. Dogma Black worked in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but his callous view on Wizard supremacy held her back from speaking with him. The Rosiers and Malfoys were in attendance but had no connection with the Ministry. The Cresswells were there, and it was Thomas Cresswell, an old friend who now worked in the Goblin Liaison Office that she chose to speak with. She had an idea and needed to know who to contact. Their reunion was sweet as Thomas fondly took her hands in his, but his smile faded, and the room fell silent as Elizabett explained her plan. Heads turned, and her mother's cheeks grew scarlet, but Elizabett was convinced that she was doing the right thing. At first, Thomas was reluctant to help, he had a growing position in the Ministry and didn't want to jeopardize it, but several days after the gathering, an owl arrived addressed to her with the name of the department and the person to contact. A simple "good luck" was scrawled across the bottom of the parchment.

~~~***~~~

Dressed in a classically fit, navy blue robe, her wavy, dark brown hair pulled back in a matching snood accentuating her heart-shaped face, Elizabett boldly strode through the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic and waited for the gilded lift to take her to the appropriate floor. As the lift ascended, the butterflies in her stomach began to flutter, but she never wavered from her decision. Stepping into the corridor that led to the wizard's name on the slip of parchment in her hand, Elizabett made her way through the dividers that separated various workstations. She had an appointment, and when she reached the door, she knocked softly, waiting to be received. The stout, little wizard who greeted her smiled encouragingly and ushered her into the small office, offering her a seat opposite the untidy desk. Presenting her hand in a professional greeting, she accepted the seat, and confidently pulled her proposal from her briefcase. She had spent years preparing it. He took the document and flipped through the pages, stopping every now and again to reread or examine a statement more intently. He nodded, seemingly impressed, and they discussed some of the finer points in more detail. To her surprise, the meeting lasted well over an hour. He appeared very interested, and the proposal seemed to follow the Minister's present agenda, especially with the unrest that was currently brewing in the international world. Elizabett was right. The Wizard world would benefit from this knowledge.


	2. 2 Welcome to Hogwarts

**2 – Welcome to Hogwarts**

Armando Dippet stood at the end of the long, oak meeting table in the first floor conference room. School was to commence within the week, and the staff was preparing for a new year of study and activities. They were presently milling around the simple room greeting each other after the summer break. A few had remained at the school, but most had joined their families, or traveled, bringing back stories of their adventures. Elizabett stood to the right of the Headmaster after having spoken briefly to a few of her former professors. She felt awkward with the transition from student to colleague, but kept a calm exterior. As the Headmaster cleared his throat, he motioned for the staff members to take their places. Dippet smiled reassuringly and signalled that Elizabett remain standing by his side.

"Before we begin, I have an announcement to make," the Headmaster clasped his hands together excitedly and drew everyone's attention forward. "We are on the cutting edge of a new mind set. With the political unrest in the Muggle world, the Ministry has adopted a new policy, and with it, a new course has been presented and approved. Miss Elizabett Castlewood," he directed their attention to the young woman by his side "will be joining our staff this year as Professor of Muggle Studies. Some of you may recall Miss Castlewood from her years here at Hogwarts and upon her departure from these hallowed halls; she embarked on a most fascinating path of exploration – Muggles. She is quite the expert in Muggle philosophy and behaviour, and has created a curriculum that the Ministry deems essential for our students to learn, especially in these tremulous times." He turned to bow slightly to the quiet, young woman. "Miss Castlewood, welcome to Hogwarts."

~~~***~~~

The meeting lasted until lunch with the setting of schedules, division of duties, and many questions being asked and answered regarding the new course. Although the Ministry had embraced Muggle Studies, it was the Board of Governors who controlled who it would be available to. It would be compulsory to fourth through sixth years, but an option to the seventh years. The junior grades, according to the governors, were too impressionable and should be guided more in the fundamentals of witchcraft and wizardry. After all, that's what Hogwarts was all about. As a compromise, the Ministry agreed to the possibility of making the course available to all students in the future.

When the meeting was adjourned, Elizabett pushed her chair back and prepared to find her way to her new quarters in the teachers' wing. Professors Merrythought and Bagshot stopped her at the door, smiling, and offering words of encouragement and an invitation to sit with them at lunch. Elizabett tipped her head in thanks and turned to follow her new colleagues, but a comment startled her, and she turned toward the voice.

"Who would have thought?" Professor Slughorn boasted, apparently taking no notice that there were still people in the room besides him and the professor who sat to his left. "She's a Castlewood," he snorted. "We all know who they're in league with. It's common knowledge and in the history books. You say she was a Hufflepuff? That must have been a family embarrassment."

"But, she seems wise enough to try to understand beyond what she has been taught. That is admirable," the Transfiguration professor pointed out.

"You can't be serious? There must be an ulterior motive," Slughorn scoffed.

"Maybe so," Elizabett bravely interrupted to the embarrassed surprise of the Potions professor. "I grew up believing that Muggles were evil, not to be trusted, but found that even this school accepts Muggle-borns and half-bloods. It wasn't the person's birth that made them malevolent, but what they were taught to believe. People are afraid of what they don't understand. If we wish to follow the path of the Muggle and stoop to their level of violence, then we might as well stay ignorant to their philosophy and existence. If we are to rise above our ignorance and fear of the unknown, then we must learn about the other's way of life."

"A truly superior way of looking at things," Slughorn countered smugly.

"Muggles, and wizards alike, are humans. We share a common physiology and many of our ideals are the same. So many parallels can be made between the two worlds. And, there are no other species even remotely like us. But, what is it that makes us different? Our ability to harness and control the energy that surrounds us. Even Muggles have that capability. It appears in the Muggle-born witches and wizards that we see come through this school. However, not all have the ability to tap into that knowledge, or even understand that it exists."

"So, you admit that we're superior," Slughorn baited.

"I admit that we need to know more about them to rid ourselves of unwarranted prejudices," Elizabett calmly opposed.

Seeing a possible debate rising before lunch, Professor Dumbledore intervened. "Well said, Professor Castlewood. Horace," he clapped his associate on the shoulder, as he rose, "I have no intention of being late for our first meal back. Apparently the house elves have outdone themselves." He gave a curt but polite nod to Elizabett as he ushered his friend from the conference room.

Elizabett balled her fists in restrained anger as the men left, and the flames on the torches in the room doubled in size as she slowly released her frustration. She knew that there would be opposition. She had already faced it with the Board of Governors, but she also held hope that the professors, being educated individuals, would be more open-minded.

~~~***~~~

The bell sounded, and the students leisurely sauntered in to take their seats. Elizabett silently stood against the back wall of the classroom observing the sixth year Slytherins and Ravenclaws as they entered. She had reviewed the class list the night before and recognized some of the names. Professor Merrythought had also given her a "heads up" on some of the more militant individuals whom he thought might give her a problem. Secretly, she listened to their comments as they derogated the possible topics and need for such a "ridiculous" class. As the moments passed, the students began to notice that no teacher had presented themselves to the front of the room. The group quieted and shifted in their seats, searching the chamber for the missing professor. Elizabett stepped away from the wall and slowly, but purposefully, made her way up the centre aisle between the desks. Her youthful appearance and small stature made some of the boys snicker. At twenty-six years old, she stood no taller than five foot three. She was reasonably attractive, and with her long, wavy, brown hair pulled back in a low bun, small tendrils had escaped to frame her thin, heart-shaped face. Thomas used to tease her about her slight build, laughing that he could lift her with one arm, which he often did to prove his point. One bold Slytherin shifted his feet into the walkway as Elizabett approached, and she stopped to steadily gaze down at the offending obstacle.

Coolly raising her eyes to meet his challenge, she quietly but firmly ordered, "Mr. Avery, kindly remove your feet from the aisle." Elizabett did not break eye contact with the boy as he slowly did as he was told, and she internally breathed a sigh of relief that he didn't challenge her further.

Finally reaching the front to the class, Elizabett turned and stood before her desk. She efficiently took attendance, keeping the nerves out of her voice, and explained the purpose of the course and the Ministry's position on the need to understand Muggles. She described some of her personal history and experiences in the hope that the students would be able to relate. One didn't have to agree or sympathize with the way Muggles lived, but an open mind would lead to fewer prejudices, consequently, less conflicts. Elizabett had practiced her speech well, and often, and hoped that if the students didn't appreciate the course now, they would see the necessity of it in the future.

As she began to relax, she eased herself onto the edge of her desk; feet dangling off the ground, and openly answered questions and led a group discussion for the remainder of the period. It was animated and diverse, and in some instances the misinformation about Muggles was just as bad as what the Muggles believed about wizards. Elizabett was surprised with some of the topics brought forth and mentally took note of who the class leaders were, who were the followers, who were the Muggle-borns or mixed bloods for they definitely stood out in this class, who were the most negative or aggressive toward the subject, and who may cause problems. When the class was dismissed, she smiled politely, breathed a sigh of relief that her first class had gone better than she had anticipated, and immediately wrote her observations down before she forgot.

~~~***~~~

By the end of the day, she was more tired than she had ever been in her life, even more than the time when she waited tables in a Muggle café. It was all she could do to remain upright at dinner, and when the meal was over and the crowd began to disperse, she gladly retreated out the back exit behind the High Table.

"Difficult first day?" Professor Dumbledore intercepted her as she began to weave through the students, heading toward the teachers' wing.

"Difficult? No. Exhausting? Yes," she turned to reply with a tired smile. "I've never taught before and found it very interesting, but it was constant motion. It never seemed to stop."

The Transfiguration professor nodded genially. "You have not met your seventh years yet?"

"No. I see them at the end of the week. It's the rest of the fifth years next, and then the fourth years."

"Ah, Dippet, is lulling you into a sense of comfort before you meet the older, more opinionated, students," his blue eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Oh, I had a healthy round of "opinions" today from the sixth year Slytherins, but the course is optional for the seventh years. It should only contain those students who are truly interested."

"Or for those who wish to stir things up a bit with the new program. Or the Muggle-borns who will take it because they believe it will be an easy course."

"Maybe it will be," Elizabett returned the mischievous grin with an eyebrow wag, "if they understand philosophy."

Dumbledore's eyes met Elizabett's for a brief moment of amusement before Professor Slughorn raucously draped his stocky arm over his friend's shoulder.

"Bloody end of the day. First year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Clueless twits. I need a release, Albus. Care to join me?" The rotund Potions professor steered the other man away from Elizabett and toward the dungeon staircase, neither giving a second glace back as the students parted before them, creating an open path.

Elizabett shrugged off the rudeness of the Potions professor and resumed her route to the teachers' wing. She had been given a room with a view toward the Forbidden Forest and the rising sun, and had found that the main living area definitely needed thicker curtains for when the sunbeams streaked through; they shone directly into the bedroom just opposite the window. If the bedroom door were not closed properly, the early morning rays would shine onto her face and wake her. _Now_, she considered, _this could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on which day of the week it was._

As Elizabett gave the password, she entered the bleak room. It had been decorated in black and yellow; Hufflepuff colours in honour of her former house. The small sofa by the fireplace was covered in plain, black upholstery with bright, yellow throw cushions, and the tiny dinner table and chairs by the outer wall looked like they were made of ebony, but were probably simply so old that the stain had darkened like tar. The walls were pastel yellow, which wasn't altogether offensive. It gave the room a bright appearance, but the thin curtains on the large windows overlooking the forest were black with yellow ties the same brilliance as the cushions. They would eventually have to go. The bedroom was decorated similarly with the covers on the simple, single, four-poster bed being black with yellow trim. The bed curtains were black with yellow ties. Again, the walls were pale yellow, and the wall sconces, wardrobe, and night table were black. She sighed. She really needed to discuss a possible change of decor with the Headmaster. She had spent seven years living in Hufflepuff, and had no desire to continue living in what looked like the inside of a beehive, but that would come in time.

After kicking off her shoes and washing her hands and face, Elizabett lay on the bed for a moment of rest before changing, but before she knew it, she was snoring lightly and morning would come far too soon.


	3. 3 Something To Talk About

**3 – Something To Talk About **

"Alright, Mr. Weasley. I'll grant you that. Muggles do try to compensate for their lack of magical ability by continuously inventing things to make their lives easier." Elizabett turned to the rest of her fifth-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. "But…is that a bad thing?" she questioned. "On a piece of parchment," she instructed, "I want you to make a list of five Muggle inventions and their Wizard equivalent. You have ten minutes. Let's see what you come up with, and no discussing it…yet." She finished with a sly smile that her students now recognized as something to look forward to.

Professor Castlewood's classes, for the most part, were dynamic. She made the students think, and there was a lot of idea sharing. She rarely criticized, but would gently try to direct a negative student to see a different way. Only on the rare occasion had a class seen her lose her temper, and it was something they chose not to provoke in the future. When one particular student defied warnings and continuously made crude and boorish remarks regarding the stupidity of Muggle females, they witnessed their professor glare at the offending pupil while the candle on her desk instantly melted to nothing. She regained control quickly, and with a gentle movement from her projective hand, reformed the candle. The students were beginning to see their soft-spoken professor as quite a powerful witch.

"Time's up. What have you come up with?" Elizabett had been wandering the class, looking over students' shoulders as they wrote, smiling encouragingly at some of the responses.

Instantly, hands shot into the air.

"Mr. Prewett?" Elizabett pointed to a chubby, redheaded Gryffindor.

"I've heard that Muggles have automobiles, and Wizards have brooms," the boy grinned proudly as several other students lowered their hands.

"Very good. Do you have any idea how many people can fit in an automobile?" The class collectively shook their heads. "Well, it depends on the size. Some automobiles are made very small and can only carry two people, while others are very large and can carry at least six."

Some students' jaws dropped in astonishment. A vehicle that could carry six people? Rather like the magic carpets that had been banned by the British Ministry years ago.

"Do we have trains?" There was an accumulative nod. "How about buses?"

"My mum and I took the Knight Bus once to my gran's. It's new," Hester Smith chimed excitedly.

"Good, and these are things that both Wizards and Muggles have," Elizabett continued as she moved around the class. "Anything else?"

"They have radio, and we have the wireless." "They have pots, and we have cauldrons." "They wear coats, and we wear cloaks."

"We both have houses." "And governments. "And schools."

The ideas came out fast as hands whipped into the air, and the period flew by as students animatedly discussed the similarities and differences between Wizards and Muggles. They were about to embark on a rather in-depth discussion of electricity verses magical power when the bell rang. Something told Elizabett that the conversation would not end when they left the room.

~~~***~~~

"I really wish you wouldn't stir them up so," Professor Babbling criticized at the evening's staff meeting. "They leave your class so talkative that they chat right through mine. Ancient Runes requires concentration and their not."

Several other staff members nodded in agreement, and Elizabett promised to have a talk with her students.

"That's just the problem," Professor Slughorn decided to include his two knuts. "You let them talk. They "discuss" issues," he snorted derisively. "Now, we know that you were not trained as a teacher, and such a skill requires careful development, but you must keep control over your students. It's your job to impart knowledge, not to let them discover it for themselves."

Elizabett's cheeks began to flush. She thought that she had been doing a fine job. The students enjoyed her class. They were catching on to the whole idea behind Muggle Studies, and the class was never "out of control". She had surprisingly good command over the discussions, not letting the more vocal students dominate, and bringing out the more quiet ones. There were occasionally some rude and ignorant comments, but they were handled quickly and firmly. If the students were discussing the topics outside of class, then she felt that she was successful. She looked over at the Headmaster for support as he sat back in the large, throne-like chair taking in the proceedings.

When he noticed the lull in conversation, he softly replied. "Miss Castlewood has done an admirable job so far. Let her speak with her students."

Professor Babbling huffed and fidgeted in her seat, whispering something to the Astronomy professor to her left, who huffed as well.

"On to the next item of business," Headmaster Dippet continued. "Halloween is this weekend, and with it the senior levels are permitted into Hogsmeade. I would like to have a few teachers in the village to keep watch over our students. Do I have any volunteers?"

Professor Kettleburn raised his hand. He had to head into town anyway to pick something up for his Care of Magical Creatures class. Apparently, he was trying to breed a rare Sillingwat and needed some more cotton batting for a nest.

Professor Merrythought cheerfully volunteered, and Elizabett raised her hand. It had been a long time since she'd ventured into Hogsmeade. Ever since school began, she had been completely focused on her classes, and now felt the diversion would be welcome. Professor Dumbledore then leaned forward to volunteer, stating that a new shipment of Sherbet Lemons should be in at the Village Square Sweet Shoppe. Professor Slughorn's ears perked up, and he joined the list, mumbling something about candied pineapples.

The Headmaster rolled his eyes. "As long as you all realize that you must keep an eye on the students and have them back here for the evening feast."

The volunteers smiled with anticipation of the upcoming event.

~~~***~~~

Professors Kettleburn, Merrythought, and Castlewood met in the main entranceway right after breakfast on Saturday morning. Professors Slughorn and Dumbledore had not yet arrived, and the students were impatiently lining up to sign out for the Hogsmeade trip. The weather promised to be favourable, and the sun was already burning off the early morning fog. Professor Kettleburn re-examined his list for the tenth time before stuffing it into the pocket of his faded, brown trousers. Elizabett liked the Care of Magical Creatures instructor. He was not very tall and had wild, coffee-colour hair liberally streaked with grey. His scruffy moustache and beard were kept short and hid the many scars that had been acquired over the years in his dealings with unusual wildlife. He always seemed to have a positive, optimistic outlook on life. Elizabett felt uplifted in his presence just as she felt with Professor Merrythought, whom she deemed was aptly named. He was a bit taller and slimmer that Professor Kettleburn with greying hair that had once been auburn. He was clean-shaven, and kept a hooked pipe, that never seemed to be lit, clenched in his teeth. It gave him a sophisticated appearance. He always had a smile and a kind word, a little too temperate, some might say, for a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. This was not to say that either man ignored the harsh realities of life, they simply chose to search out the more pleasant side of things.

Strolling down the narrow, cobbled, main road of Hogsmeade, the trio split up and headed toward their personal errands. Elizabett continued to meander further into the ancient village, examining shop windows, watching students excitedly head to their favourite destinations, and stopping to feed the pigeons in the small, village square.

While sitting on the archaic, wooden, park bench in front of a flowing, water fountain, Elizabett spied the two missing professors leisurely ambling their way to the Sweet Shoppe. Professor Slughorn was chatting a mile a minute, hands waving in the air before him. He looked like he was ready to take flight, and Elizabett smiled to herself. Professor Dumbledore's expression was hard to read. He appeared to be listening to his friend, but his eyes kept darting from the street to the shop to his friend and then to the square. When his eyes landed on Elizabett, his lips curled upward slightly, he tipped his head slowly forward in a half nod of acknowledgement, and quickly changed direction. Professor Slughorn was caught by surprise and grabbed hold of Professor Dumbledore's elbow, and the two appeared to walk arm-in-arm to their destination.

It was nearing lunch hour when Elizabett's colleagues joined her in the square. They discussed the possibility of heading to the Simmering Cauldron for a bite to eat. Professor Kettleburn extolled the virtues of Madam Elena's turnip soup and pumpkin pie, and Professor Merrythought and Elizabett laughed out loud when his eyes glazed over at the thought. They weren't certain whether it was for the food or for the buxom proprietor. As they left the square to head right on the main road, the trio met Professors Slughorn and Dumbledore emerging from the Alchemist's shop. The five professors chatted for a few moments and a suggestion was issued that they dine together. Professor Dumbledore eased away from the Potions Master to Elizabett's side as the small group strolled toward the best eating establishment in Hogsmeade.

However, part way down the road, a young man dressed in a neat, black frockcoat stopped the group. His high, starched, white collar was fastened with a smart, black and grey cravat that peeked out above the fastening of the black, woollen cloak that was draped elegantly over his shoulders.

"Pardon me." He removed his hat to give a polite bow to the group, a twitch of a smile played on his lips. "Such lucky gentlemen to all escort one lovely lady to lunch?"

Elizabett's cheeks flushed as Professor Slughorn sputtered an incomprehensible reply.

Professor Kettleburn shook a wary finger at the cheeky, young man. "The virtues of this young woman are not to be questioned, nor are our intentions," he frowned as his eyes narrowed. "I know you. Graduated quite some time ago." A grin began to creep through the beard. "You seem to be doing well for yourself," he indicated to the fine clothes.

The man bowed again, his smile genuine at the praise and at the reprimand. "I meant no offence. I came in search of this charming lady, but she seems to be spoken for several times over," he grinned at Elizabett who by now was grinning back.

"You're terrible!" she exclaimed as she stepped forward to light-heartedly bat his cloaked arm. "What are you doing here, and how did you know that I'd be in the village?"

The man laughed as he scooped his arm around her waist lifting her off the ground. "I was at your house last week, speaking with your father, when your owl arrived. Your mother relayed the message that you were chaperoning in Hogsmeade this weekend. If I recall, there's a feast tonight, but I was hoping to take you to lunch. Would you mind if I steal her away?" Thomas directed toward the other professors as he set Elizabett back on her feet.

Professors Kettleburn and Merrythought shook their heads and made shooing motions to the young couple. Professor Slughorn said that he couldn't care less, which earned him a nasty glare from the remaining three, and Professor Dumbledore said nothing, but simply stood affably silent, watching the pair carefully.

Elizabett slipped her hand through the crook in Thomas' arm and affectionately gave it a squeeze as she smile up at him. He gazed down fondly as he placed his hand over hers, and after a nod to her colleagues, they turned to stroll toward the Simmering Cauldron_._

"Don't they make a lovely couple," Professor Merrythought sighed as they watched the pair leave.

"Handsome young man. Did you know she had a beau?" Professor Kettleburn innocently asked the group.

The other professors shook their heads "no".

Thomas held the heavy, wooden door of the restaurant open for his companion. "I'm afraid Hogsmeade has a rather meagre selection of good eating establishments," he began, "But this place does serve a wonderful turnip soup."

Elizabett chuckled. "So I've heard."

Finding a quiet table in the corner of the bustling room, Thomas courteously helped Elizabett remove her cloak and hung both his and hers on a nearby coat tree. He, then, held the chair for her to sit. Several seventh-year students gawked at seeing a teacher with a companion, and a couple of the girls motioned to their male counterparts that they wouldn't mind being treated like that either. The boys' attention, however, was soon diverted with the timely arrival of their lunch.

The remaining professors entered the establishment and found another table on the opposite side of the room. They wanted to give the couple some privacy while still being able to watch the proceedings.

"So, what were you doing with Father? It's not often you visit without your family," Elizabett questioned after the waitress left with their order.

"Actually, I wanted to speak with both of your parents," he casually replied as he absently fidgeted with his napkin.

"Really? Whatever for? Is the Ministry somehow involved?" Elizabett innocently asked as her father occasionally did consulting work there.

"Inadvertently," Thomas took a deep breath and placed his hands, palms down, on the smooth surface of the table. "Lizzie, how long have we known each other?" He smiled across at her.

"Oh, hmmm, I don't know. Forever?" she grinned as she rolled her eyes playfully.

"Have I ever acted inappropriately, offensively, or given you cause to mistrust me?" Such odd questions.

"Never," she suddenly grew serious, her brows furrowed in concern, "Has someone accused you of inappropriate behaviour? Do you need defence? A character witness? What's happened?"

Elizabett's concern drew the attention of several people in the establishment, many of whom had already been eavesdropping on the couple, and Thomas raised his hand to stop her. "No, nothing like that," he chuckled lightly as his cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink.

"Then, what?" she leaned forward lowering her voice.

"I, aaa…I…" Thomas started to reach across the table for Elizabett's hand.

"Two turnip soups with fresh rolls and two teas," the waitress interrupted as Thomas rapidly withdrew his arm, leaning back in his seat as the meal was served.

When the waitress left, Elizabett raised her left eyebrow at the flustered man who had picked up his spoon to stir the hot broth.

With a deep, cleansing breath, he looked up, twitched an uncertain smile, and said, "This shouldn't be so difficult."

Elizabett shook her head at him. "What are you talking about? We've been friends for as long as I can remember. You've told me things that I'm sure you've told no one else. Remember when we used to climb the willow in the backyard of my house, and sit up there for hours just talking?"

Thomas' tension eased. "When was that? Three years, four years ago?" he chuckled.

"Five, maybe," Elizabett played along. It was more like fifteen.

He relaxed and leaned his elbows onto the small, wooden table, this time successfully reaching across to stroke the back of Elizabett's hand. She returned the favour as their fingers lightly caressed each other.

"I was at your house to ask your parents' permission to court you," Thomas finally uttered after clearing his throat.

"Oh?" Elizabett straightened in her seat, but didn't pull her hand back from her friend. "And, what did they say?"

Thomas sat upright, chin held high, thumbs tucked under the lapels of his jacket, and did an excellent impersonation of Elizabett's father. "Well, my son," he began in Mr. Castlewood's deep voice, "you're a fine young man rising well in the Ministry. You've been a welcome part of this family ever since you were a lad. It would be our honour to have you as a son, but as much as it would please us…" he paused for effect, "we're not the ones to ask." Thomas grinned and reached for Elizabett's hand again. "My dear Lizzie, I care for you deeply and would be privileged if you would allow me to court you."

Before Elizabett could reply, a loud sigh sounded at a neighbouring table. "That was beautiful," a seventh-year girl gushed to her embarrassment.

Elizabett and Thomas turned their heads to see several nearby tables listening in, including the professors across the room who suddenly found their lunch very interesting.

Elizabett smiled at Thomas and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "You're my best friend, and this is something that I have often thought of, but it's also something I'd rather discuss without the audience," she nodded toward the students leaning in their direction when the couple lowered their voices.

Thomas grinned and nodded in agreement, and when their meal was done, they took a private stroll toward the edge of town.


	4. 4 Samhain

**A/N - Samhain is Gaelic and pronounced Sow-in**.

**4 – Samhain**

Albus Dumbledore sat in his regular seat at the High Table, two places down from the Headmaster on the right hand side. Professor Slughorn was on the opposite end of the table between Professors Bagshot and Dillingworth. Thank goodness. It had been a long day, and Horace's incessant chatter had become grating even to this even-tempered man. He was enjoying the quiet company of those on his side. Og the groundskeeper, sat at the far end, close to the door. Madam Olfield, the librarian was beside him. Then, there were Professors Castlewood, Babbling, the Herbology professor, Flaurance, himself and Professor Merrythought. Og never said much except to Professor Kettleburn or the Headmaster, and Madam Olfield was naturally quiet, a honourable trait amongst librarians. The aged Professor Babbling was characteristically cool to young Elizabett Castlewood who seemed to be in her own little world at the moment. How lovely she looked. Such a charming glow she had on her cheeks. It matched the dark rose robe that fit her so neatly. Albus felt his own cheeks heat as he quickly glanced away. It would seem that she was now spoken for. The young man who had met them in the village had, quite literally, swept her off her feet. Albus began to absently push the peas around his plate. He had no right or reason to feel the way he did. This was ridiculous. She was twenty years younger, a former student, and he…well…often questioned his own preference to the point where he simply ignored the situation all together.

"Have those peas offended you in some way?" Professor Merrythought leaned toward Albus, tipping his head toward the crushed mess on his neighbour's plate.

Albus gazed down and began to mix the pulverized vegetable with his mashed potatoes. "Thought I'd try something different," he forced a genial smile, and scooped a forkful into his mouth. "Mmm, not bad," he nodded.

Professor Merrythought simply chuckled softly. Indeed, it had been an interesting day. The students had behaved exemplary; no incidences required intervention, thus, leaving the teachers to tend to their business without distraction. When instructed to return to the school, they had done so without fuss or fight. "If only all outings were this easy," Professor Kettleburn had mentioned. It was on the return trip, where there was a great deal of discussion regarding Professor Castlewood's liaison with a handsome, young man. The girls from the restaurant regaled the story to those who hadn't seen the tall, dark-haired gentleman who had taken the Muggles Studies teacher to lunch and had asked permission to court her. They had taken a walk afterwards and weren't seen for about an hour. When Professor Castlewood returned, she did so alone and with a smile on her face, but said nothing, not even to her colleagues. There was speculation as to what had transpired, and the gossip would surely filter through school for the rest of the weekend.

~~~***~~~

It was nearly eight o'clock when the Great Hall finally began to clear out. Many students were so full they practically rolled down the aisles between the long tables, holding their overstuffed bellies and groaning happily. Madam Prince, the mediwitch, may have some visitors tonight looking for a stomach-calming potion.

There had been talk at the High Table of an informal gathering in the staff lounge should anyone wish to attend. Professor Kettleburn and Og immediately declined, and the two headed out the front door discussing the upcoming hibernation of Bowtrickles and the need to keep guard while the elusive creatures slept. Predators often attacked the stick-like creatures in the winter, and the population was always low in the spring. Several others excused themselves as well, having made plans elsewhere, after all it was Samhain, the most powerful night of magick in the Wizard world. But, a few did find their way along the Main Entrance hall to ease themselves into the mismatched, but comfortable, seats throughout the wood paneled chamber.

The kettle was bubbling and steaming upon their arrival, and a wonderful selection of teas was set out on a counter. The atmosphere was one of quiet camaraderie. Elizabett had been on her way back to her chamber. The thought of a hot, bubble bath with scented oils sounded like the perfect way to end the day, but she somehow found herself being drawn along with the group as the Great Hall emptied and people shifted place. She stood in the doorway of the staff room, not certain what to do or where to sit. Everyone seemed to have his or her favourite spot, and she seldom ventured into the teacher's lounge for long. It was Professor Bagshot who called her over. The older woman had taken a liking to the younger teacher but rarely had the opportunity to speak with her. They sat on opposite ends of the High Table, and even though their classes were on the same floor, they had completely different schedules. She patted the space beside her on the short, well-worn, blue brocade sofa. Elizabett joined her, placing her cup of Darjeeling tea in the saucer on her lap.

"I hear you had quite the day," the History of Magic professor smiled kindly. "I remember Mr. Cresswell from his days here. Charming young man. Industrious. Steady. Works for the Ministry, I hear."

Elizabett smiled shyly, but her chest swelled with pride. Thomas was an engaging man, her best friend.

"I hear he asked to court you," Professor Bagshot continued, with a slight, knowing tilt of her head and a wink. "From your silence and dreamy look this evening at dinner, I gather you said, "yes"."

Elizabett's smile twitched upward demurely, but the twinkle in her pale blue eyes gave her answer away. "We have a few things to work out. I developed this program, and have only just begun teaching it. I like what I'm doing, and feel that it's important. I don't want to give it up."

The professor tapped Elizabett's knee amiably. "It most certainly is important, and I'm confident that you two will come to an arrangement. Many professors manage their time here with families. Horace," she called over her shoulder to her walrus-like colleague who stood by the kettle, "would you be a dear and pour me another cup of tea? Would you like another cup, dear?" she directed toward the younger teacher who took a finishing sip and shook her head.

"No, thank you. I think I'll head to my quarters." Elizabett rose to take her leave, placing her empty cup on the counter beside the tea service. Bidding her colleagues "goodnight", she made her way toward the stairs leading to the upper corridors.

The conversation in the staff room would last for another hour or so before those in attendance slowly turned in.

~~~***~~~

The air was crisp, and the outer corridor that led along the southeast wall of the castle toward one section of the teachers' wing was glowing with the intermitted light of torches and moon rays that shone through the glassless windows. Elizabett folded her arms across her chest to stay warm as she quickly made her way through the dim light. Her heels clicked and echoed on the flagstone floor as she approached the right-hand intersection that led to her quarters. She was about to make the turn when a shadowy figure in a window alcove caught the corner of her eye. She startled and spun, just as the figure did the same.

"Professor Dumbledore," Elizabett gasped as she brought her right hand to her chest, "you startled me. I thought you'd turned in for the night."

Albus stood silently watching the young woman calm herself, and then resumed his position staring out at the starry night. "I enjoy the quite. The stars are particularly bright tonight," he replied softly, gazing to the heavens.

Elizabett joined him in the alcove, and stood beside the older professor. Placing her hands on the cold, stone, window ledge, she leaned forward to follow his gaze. "Orion is low tonight. If he's not careful, Scorpius will sneak up behind him." Elizabett grinned impishly at her colleague.

"Are you claiming to be Scorpius?" His eyes twinkled as he lowered his chin over his left shoulder. "I hardly think you have the killer instinct. Weren't you a Hufflepuff?"

Elizabett chuckled lightly. "True. A Hufflepuff in a family of Slytherins," she sighed almost embarrassedly. "Some qualities did rub off, but you're right, I'm hardly the ruthless type."

Albus and Elizabett stood silently watching the stars for a few moments before the young professor had to stifle a jaw-cracking yawn. Drawing her left hand to her mouth, Albus noticed the ringless finger. His eyes bore into Elizabett's for a moment, and then he turned back to the stars. "He did not present you with a ring?" he questioned softly, keeping his voice steady.

"No," Elizabett stared into the dark night. "Some people meet and after a short time realize that they are destine to be together, their hearts can feel it immediately. For others, a relationship grows over time. They can be very close, but romance may or may not be present. Thomas and I have known each other most of our lives. We care for each other deeply, but we'd like to see if a more…intimate relationship is possible." Elizabett shrugged. "I don't think a ring is necessary at this point in time."

Albus said nothing as light clouds filtered over the half moon, but a small curve of his lips bent his mouth into an almost imperceptible smile, and for some reason, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest. He could breathe a little easier, and he didn't understand why. Elizabett shivered as a cool breeze whip around the corner of the alcove, and this drew Albus' attention back to her presence.

"I think it's time I left," she said as she reached to place her hand on his arm. "Good night, Sir. Blessed Samhain," she wished as she turned to rejoin the corridor.

"Albus," her colleague croaked to her back.

"Excuse me?" Elizabett turned to face him again.

Albus cleared his throat and spoke more confidently. "My name is Albus, not Sir. You are welcome to use it." His lips twitched upward again, defying the confident voice with an insecure, physical response.

Elizabett smiled shyly and tipped her head in acceptance. "Good night then…Albus," she repeated before turning to continue the path to her room.

~~~***~~~

It was well after midnight when Albus gave the password to his chamber and entered the dark room. A low fire burned on the grate, the house elves always kept his tower room comfortably warm, and a single scone on the opposite wall gave off a muted light. Albus removed his wand from his sleeve and gave a flick toward the lamp on the dining table. The flame instantly brightened the sitting area waking the sleeping man who was settled in the large, winged-back, leather chair by the fire. He snorted and stirred, shifting the empty snifter from his right hand to the occasional table by his side. Albus startled.

"You're late," Horace grunted as he shifted his considerable weight to a straighter sitting position. "I didn't think you were on night patrol tonight. Not after chaperoning today. Dippet wouldn't be that callous."

Albus sighed at the Potions professor but remained where he was standing by the door. "It's Samhain, Horace. Some do enjoy the various attributes of such a powerful night."

Horace snorted derisively. "I never considered you a spiritual man. Certainly not Wicca. Agnostic, most definitely."

"Is there any specific reason why you're here, Horace? As you stated, it's late, and it has been a long day." Albus still had not moved from his spot by the entrance.

Horace looked over at his companion. His expression was one of concern and confusion. "You disappeared after dinner without a word. You didn't go to the teachers' lounge when invited, and when I arrived here afterward, you were not present. I was concerned and chose to wait for you. By the way, you're out of brandy." He picked up the snifter and waved it in the air.

Albus eyed his friend coolly, and finally took several steps into his chamber. "Although I appreciate your concern, I do not feel that an explanation of my whereabouts is any of your business. It's late, and I would like to retire."

Professor Slughorn struggled to his feet and came face to face with his friend, brown eyes meeting blue. He shook his head and shouldered past Albus, leisurely making his way to the door. With one hand on the handle, and his back to the room, he slowly asked, "Does she know what kind of a man you are?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Albus replied evenly.

Horace grunted again. As he opened the door to leave, he muttered, "Really?"

As the door gently closed, Albus' shoulders slumped. He was confused, and this confusion, on top of the day, made him very tired indeed. His feelings for Elizabett, whatever they were, were certainly unexpected. He didn't know how to handle them. He wasn't a young man, but his experiences had been limited. However, the sensation that he felt in her presence was undeniable. He picked up the empty brandy bottle on the dining table and tipped it upside down. _Of all nights to run out_, he thought.


	5. 5 Food For Thought

**5 – Food For Thought**

"You take that back," a sixth-year Gryffindor angrily drew his wand and aimed it at his adversary.

"I meant every word. Muggles and Mudbloods aren't worth knowing about. Grindelwald has the right idea. Get rid of them all. Wizard domination." The seventh-year Slytherin spat as the two faced off, wands aimed at each other.

"Grindelwald wants racial superiority through eradication. That's not right. We should learn to get along."

"You sound like that Muggle-loving wench who teaches that useless subject. My family knows them. She's embarrassed everyone in our circle. If you want to learn so much about…oh, that's right, you're a half-blood, aren't you? Sub-standard tinker. This school is weakened with its acceptance of those unsuitable to be here...like you," the boy sneered.

Before he knew what hit him, the arrogant Slytherin succumbed to a very well cast Jelly-Legs Jinx, and he stumbled against the wall of the corridor. His retaliation, a Furnunculus Charm, missed its mark when the boy's legs refused to hold him up. He growled in anger as it accidentally struck his companion. The other boy screamed, his face instantly breaking out in nasty boils, and the gathering Gryffindors roared with laughter.

Professors Bagshot and Castlewood came racing from the south side corridor at the sound of spellfire, and Professor Dumbledore appeared from the east side corridor. The adults arrived at the intersection to witness several wands drawn between the two Houses.

"I suggest you put those sticks away, boys," Professor Dumbledore calmly approached the group. "You wouldn't want anyone to get hurt." He suppressed a small smile as he witnessed the two afflicted Slytherins, but he pressed his lips together to control the smirk. "Mr. Black, do you think you can assist Mr. Rosier to the hospital wing?" he directed to the pustule-faced boy who angrily nodded. "Mr. McLaggen," he directed toward the dominant Gryffindor, "detention with me this afternoon. Be prepared to explain this intolerable behavior. My office. Three o'clock. As for you two," he spoke firmly to the Slytherins as they struggled to walk away, "I want you in my office as soon as you're out of the hospital wing. Is that understood?"

They nodded, but as they passed Professor Castlewood, Mr. Rosier lost his balance, and lunged at the young teacher. She instinctively reached out to catch him, but he violently shook her off. "Get your filthy hands off me, Muggle-lover," he angrily spat.

For the second time in less than fifteen minutes, the Slytherin found himself on the receiving end of a spell. This one froze him in his spot as Professor Dumbledore strode to place himself in the boy's line of vision.

"Apologize," he quietly ordered as his eyes narrowed. The boy glared at the Head of Gryffindor House and muttered an incomprehensible apology from between gritted teeth. "So that she can hear you," the Transfiguration professor demanded as his cheeks began to angrily flush.

"I'm sorry," the boy uttered with great pains.

"Detention with Og in the forest for a week, Mr. Rosier. I'm certain he can find something unpleasant for you to do for such deplorable behavior. Off with you," he commanded. "As for the rest of you," he turned to the group, "I suggest that you return to your Common Rooms. This sort of behavior will not be tolerated."

As the students rapidly dispersed, Professor Dumbledore turned his attention to the other two teachers. Professor Bagshot had her hand protectively on the arm of Professor Castlewood.

"Are you all right?" he asked kindly.

Elizabett nodded uncertainly. Physically she was fine, but she was distressed. She had never experienced such a violent reaction directed toward her before. Rosier's hatred could be felt radiating from his very being. It was unnerving.

"I think I may have another topic to cover in class," she twitched an uncomfortable smile at her colleagues, "The comparative rise of fascism in the European Wizard and Muggle worlds." She shook her head sadly. "There is more in common than they think," she tipped her head to the retreating students.

"Unfortunately, the ones who need to be enlightened the most are probably not in your class," Albus quietly stated. "I would tread lightly, if I were you."

Bathilda gazed steadily at Albus. It was a knowing stare that had an underlying understanding. She knew something that she was unwilling to say. "Come dear," she abruptly instructed to the younger woman. "Let me make you a cup of tea." Gently pulling Elizabett's arm, she led her down the corridor and away from the older man.

Elizabett glanced over her right shoulder. Albus stood in the middle of the hallway watching them, a sad, yet perplexed, look on his face.

~~~***~~~

The fire crackled merrily warming the chill, second floor room. A glass, oil lamp on the dining table was lit and another lamp on the occasional table at the end of the black sofa gave a bright enough light to read by. Elizabett sat, curled up, against the soft fabric of the sofa, a colourful lap blanket across her knees. She absently flipped through some notes that she had written that afternoon, after her run-in with Jacob Rosier. She sighed. They were good, but her colleagues had a point. The incident had been the talk of the High Table at dinner, and when it was brought forth that Elizabett planned to address the issue in her senior class, the teachers' reactions were instant and abrupt. The general consensus was an emphatic "no!" A career-ender. Even Professor Babbling shook her head in rejection of the idea.

Elizabett balled up the parchment and made to throw it into the fire, but at the last moment changed her mind. The lesson was good. She might not be able to use it now, but it may have value later. She flattened the pages on the cushion beside her, smoothing them out with her hands and placing them back in the folder. Rising to pile the folder on top of her other work to bring to class in the morning, she startled at a light tap on the window. The thin, black curtains had finally been changed to thicker ones, and the sound was slightly muffled. The tap sounded again. Curiously moving across the room, Elizabett pulled back the heavy material to see a plump, brown-speckled, horned owl sitting on the ledge. She smiled broadly for she knew to whom the owl belonged, and it had impeccable timing. This was a connection she needed right now. Opening the window, she welcomed the bird with a bright, "Well hello", and it hopped in to gently butt her hand to be patted.

"Ah, just like your master. You like to be stroked, too," she laughed quietly.

The owl fluffed up its feathers and dropped its missive on the small, black table while Elizabett hunted the kitchen area for a treat. She kept a small box of crackers for her parents' post owl and pulled one out for this bird. Picking up the envelope, Elizabett heart pounded at the familiar script. She broke the wax seal on the back and withdrew the crisp, cream parchment.

_My dearest Lizzie,_

_You are in my thoughts constantly. I miss your smile and your companionship. Would you be agreeable to meet me in London this coming weekend? I would like to take you to dinner at Collingwoods. Saturday? Seven o'clock?_

_Please respond by this owl. If you need more time, keep the owl until you are ready._

_My sincerest regards,_

_Thomas _

Elizabett didn't need to think about it. She knew her answer. Retrieving her best parchment from the desk drawer, she uncapped the inkbottle, dipped the quill in, and began her response.

_Dearest Thomas,_

_You have the most perfect timing. It has been a difficult day, and I needed to "hear" a friendly voice. I miss you as well and would be delighted to meet you in London, Saturday next. _

_I'll meet you in front of Collingwoods at seven o'clock._

_Liz_

Elizabett blew the ink dry, folded the parchment and slipped it into an envelope. Stroking the bird up the beak and over the forehead, she instructed it to return to its master. The owl tipped its head in acknowledgement, and hopped out the window, spreading its wings to the breeze and elegantly taking flight. Elizabett stood watching it disappear into the starry night, then shut the window against the growing cold. With a satisfied smile, she retreated to her bedroom to prepare for bed. Tomorrow would come too soon, and it would be a busy day, but the thought of meeting Thomas on Saturday would hopefully keep her in an even mood throughout the week.

~~~***~~~

First period Monday morning was the infamous collection of seventh-years who were fully expecting to have a political discussion on pros and cons of Wizard supremacy. There were even a few Slytherins in the group who had originally joined with the intent to cause problems, but, to their surprise, had become involved with the diversity of topics. Although, their presence and comments had initially caused Elizabett stress, she learned to use those students as the "devil's advocates", and the conversations definitely became lively. She did, however, have to insist that the students respect each other's opinions as they had a tendency to insult. Of course, they could voice their view, but they needed to support their responses with concrete information and not lower themselves to criticize the opponent on an emotional level. They were still learning self-control, but at least she could see the effort, and she knew that several other teachers enforced the same policy, so the method was supported. However, today, it was all Elizabett could do to keep them on task and off a powder keg that could explode in her face. She was able to skirt the issue of Grindelwald claiming that this was a Muggle Studies course, not one in Wizard philosophy, but she did say that she hoped to address the situation in the future. With that, most of the students realized that their professor's hands were probably tied by outside influences.

The rest of the week flew by. Each afternoon, after class, Elizabett could be found in her classroom correcting the day's work. From there, she would simply wash up in the nearest lavatory and immediately head to dinner. It had become a routine that, for the most part, left her evenings free. Quidditch practice had begun, and although Elizabett hadn't followed the sport much while she was in school, she did enjoy studying the development of precision as the teams tested their skills. On the occasional chilly evening, she could be found sitting in the stands, watching whichever team happened to have booked the pitch.

At dinner on Thursday, Professor Merrythought suggested an evening out. It had been nearly a month since Halloween, and although some teachers ventured into Hogsmeade regularly, most didn't. Saturday night at the Simmering Cauldron or the Hogs Head Inn would be a much-needed change of scenery. Many nodded in agreement, and the plans began. Elizabett kept quiet until Professor Kettleburn drew her in from the opposite end of the table.

"Miss Castlewood, do you intend to join us?" the grizzly-like professor invited.

Elizabett looked up from her Sheppard's Pie and patted her mouth delicately with her napkin. She could feel eyes turn to her before she could speak.

"I'm afraid I have other plans," she responded softly with a slight blush.

"Oh ho!" Professor Kettleburn clapped his hand to the table. "A particular dashing young man?" he asked a bit too loudly, which had more heads turn her way.

By now Elizabett's face was crimson, and a verbal response was not necessary.

"Well, that's certainly more interesting for a lovely young woman like yourself than hanging out with a group of old fossils like us. Right, Albus?" Professor Merrythought knocked the Transfigurations professor in the arm jovially as he let out a hearty laugh.

Albus smiled pleasantly, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had been thinking of other things. "I will not be available Saturday either," he informed the group.

"You've been out every Saturday for the past four weeks," Professor Slughorn sulked as he came up behind his colleagues. "Are you still coming to the lab tonight?" he asked hopefully, ignoring the others.

"If you don't mind," Albus responded quietly.

"Not at all. Perhaps I'll pop in. I have work to prepare for tomorrow," the rotund professor stated as he gently placed his hand on the other man's shoulder.

"You have an interest in Potions?" Elizabett leaned forward to ask.

"More alchemy than Potions. A hobby, really," Albus stated casually.

"Anything in particular?" Elizabett questioned.

"Oh, this and that," Albus responded indifferently, not giving a definite answer.

"Do you have an interest in Potions, Miss Castlewood?" Professor Slughorn condescended.

"I think it's a fascinating subject requiring a great deal of skill, patience and persistence. However, I'm afraid, that's the extent of my interest," Elizabett replied pleasantly.

"Didn't do well in it while you were here, eh? Not everyone has the talent," Slughorn demeaned.

Elizabett pressed her lips together debating whether or not she should take his bait. She really should just let it go. "Mostly Outstandings, but I did get a couple of Exceeds Expectations, if I recall."

Slughorn sputtered but said nothing further. Albus' smile finally reached his eyes as Elizabett placed her napkin coolly on the table and prepared to leave.

~~~***~~~

The late November chill settled over the mountain and valley of the Hogwarts grounds, frosting the grass and making the path toward Hogsmeade slippery. It was shortly after six, and many of the staff and students were still in the Great Hall having dinner. Elizabett was able to leave through the front door, relatively unseen encountering only a few students who had finished their meal early and were on their way back to their Common Rooms. Closing the heavy, oak doors, Elizabett pulled her classic black, woollen cloak over the dark pink, pencil dress that she wore. The skirt was high for Wizard standards, being above the ankle but below the calf, and the sleeves were pale pink organza with a modest, matching ruffle around the neck. The cut hugged her gentle curves, and although Muggle, it was very stylish for the time. As Elizabett hurried down the path toward the boundary of the school, her cloak rustled over the stone path. From the opposite side of the gate, she could Apparate to the restaurant that Thomas had suggested.

Collingwoods was a Muggle establishment in downtown London that a number of modern Wizards frequented. Its classic style had a familiar elegance of lost years, and although the band played contemporary music, the atmosphere was one that many Wizards felt comfortable in. Elizabett and Thomas had been there several times before, with friends, and the street in front of the building was bustling with couples heading toward the motion picture house, the dance hall, or various other eating establishments.

Thomas looked smashing in his dark frock coat and top hat, his black cloak smartly held over his shoulders. He was waiting for Elizabett in front of the ornate glass doors of Collingwoods, and as she approached, he magically produced a single, red rose from his sleeve. She took it gracefully and curtseyed slightly to her beau. Thomas grinned at the silliness of the formality.

"Geez, Lizzie," he said as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, "you act like we just met."

"Well, Sir, if you think about it, this is really our first official date," she playfully returned the grin.

"I suppose it is," he tenderly placed his hand over hers as the maitre d' greeted them and escorted them to a table near the dance floor.

It was good to be out, and to be with Thomas. Elizabett had missed his easy-going manner and confidence. All of her attention had been toward her classes and the new program, and there was little time to think of much else. It was good to be with someone outside of the school. The conversation during the meal was light, mostly about their families' and work, and when Elizabett conveyed the weekend incident to Thomas his eyes widened in concern, and he immediately sided with the other teachers. It didn't surprise him that the offending student was a Rosier. Both of their families had been on the receiving end of bullying from that clan.

Thomas, then, relayed the most recent news that Evan, who was a year older than Thomas, had gone to Eastern Europe to join Grindelwald. His parents were very proud and spread the news within the circle, bragging about their son's noble choice and verbally coercing some of the other families to pick a side. There was a battle coming, one that would coincide with the Muggle's war. It was rumoured the Grindelwald even had a hand in promoting the dissention amongst the Muggles. _That doesn't surprise me_, the fleeting thought passed through Elizabett's mind.

Just in time to change the darkening mood, the band struck up a cheery tune, and Thomas invited Elizabett to dance. The next few hours were spent on the dance floor, laughing, and enjoying each other's company.

At the end of the evening, Thomas escorted Elizabett back to Hogsmeade, and they leisurely hiked up the hill to the boundary gate of Hogwarts. Several times Thomas' hand brushed up against Elizabett's before he finally entwined his gloved fingers with hers. It felt nice: warm and tingly. She had always enjoyed his company, but this felt different.

At the gate, the pair turned to each other. They had been friends for so long, and it felt awkward to end the evening romantically, but Thomas smiled confidently and stepped close, tipping his head forward so that their noses touched. Elizabett tipped her head back, and tenderly rubbed her nose against his. Eventually finding a comfortable position, their lips met in a gentle kiss. When they pulled apart, Thomas raised Elizabett's gloved hand to his lips and kissed the back.

"Good night, Lizzie," he whispered as he leaned in for a second kiss, this one deeper and more heart-felt than the first, his arms wrapping sweetly around her slight body as she reached around his waist to pull him close.

When they broke apart the second time, they were both grinning foolishly. "This might work after all," Elizabett beamed.

"You had doubts?" Thomas feigned hurt.

"You didn't?" Elizabett rejoined.

"I'll never tell," Thomas leaned forward one last time to kiss Elizabett's forehead. "Good night, love. Don't let Rosier get to you," he said as he began to walk down the path back toward the village.

"I won't," she called as he lifted his hand in a backward wave.

Elizabett stood watching as Thomas Disapparate and jumped as a "crack" sounded to her left.

"Goodness gracious, you scared me!" Elizabett struggled to catch her breath. She could feel her heart pound in her chest.

"I'm terribly sorry. I didn't expect anyone to be here. You're just getting back?" Albus asked as he glanced around for a third person. "I do hope he at least had the courtesy to escort you," he added with slight annoyance when he saw no one else.

Elizabett smiled. "Yes, he did. You just missed him."

Albus held the gate open for Elizabett to pass first, and then followed. "I hope you had a pleasant evening," he said conversationally as they began the walk up the hill to the school.

Elizabett nodded. "Yes, thank you, it was lovely. Did you?"

"Did I what?" Albus asked absently.

"Have a pleasant evening," Elizabett finished with a puzzled smile. "Professor Slughorn said that this is the fourth Saturday that you've gone out."

"It was …satisfying," he breathed with contentment, tipping his head back to look at the clear, dark sky.

"Satisfying?" Elizabett laughed. "I'm not sure I want to ask the sort of company you're keeping."

Albus turned his head sharply and looked down at the cheeky, young woman, then smiled with the realization of how his answer must have sounded. They walked in silence for a while, until he finally confided, "I've been working on something and a friend has been helping me. Saturdays, at the moment, are convenient for him."

"No need to explain," Elizabett smile up at her counterpart. "I was just teasing."

"It's quite alright. For some reason, I wanted to tell you. If I didn't, I would not have. No one knows where I go. I would like to keep it that way," Albus glanced over to see if she was watching him. As it was, she was watching her footing. The path was slippery.

"Not even Professor Slughorn?" Elizabett asked innocently with her head still down. She looked up at his silence, and noticed his flushed cheeks. "I'm so sorry. That was none of my business," she abruptly apologized for her boldness.

Albus shook his head and twitched an uncomfortable smile. "Not even Horace," he quietly stated.

"Your secret is safe with me," she reached to touch his sleeve. "I'm a Castlewood, remember. We're excellent Secret Keepers, even if it isn't bound by a spell."

Albus turned his head to gaze at the young woman at his side. There was something about her, something different. He really didn't trust anyone, but he felt that he could trust her, and he didn't know why. He wasn't sure it he liked that feeling. It was a bit unnerving.

When they reached the front doors of the school, the large, wooden entrance automatically opened as if expecting company. Albus paused to allow Elizabett to enter first. In the center of the grand entranceway, near the House hourglasses, they bid each other "good night". Elizabett began to climb the flight of stairs that led to the second floor, but curiously turned to see where Albus was heading, as she knew he had to take the same flight to reach Gryffindor Tower. He was heading to the dungeons, though. Curious.


	6. 6 Some Things Are Best Served Cold

**6 – Some Things Are Best Served Cold**

Lab number four, the seniors' potions lab, was vacant except for one man working silently by candlelight at the far end of an isolated counter. He was bent over his notes, carefully examining the information scrawled on an ink-splattered piece of parchment, absently fingering his long, reddish-brown beard as he glanced back and forth between the paper and the gently bubbling beaker of crimson liquid. He sighed and dipped the quill into the inkpot. Another failure. He had tried all possible configurations of this theory. Now, it was time to move to the next. Disheartened, he removed the beaker from the heat and set it in a stand to cool, straightened his notes and put them back into his folder, and began to clean up the remnants of the experiment.

It was late, later than he expected to be, and he was surprised that Horace had only poked his head in twice. Maybe it was because Albus had all but ignored him when he did. Although the Headmaster had given him authority to use the lab, Horace was a friend, and it would do him well to stay on the Potions Master's good side. He needed his co-operation and the laboratory privileges if his experiments were to continue. But, he also knew what could motive the man, and knew that Horace was not above taking the information, perverting it, and making it his own should he discover what Albus was doing. Albus could not let that happen.

Bottling the remaining liquid and the failed experiment, Albus cast a Stasis Charm on both and placed them in a secure cupboard close to the teacher's desk. Warding it with a strong Protective spell, he felt comfortable enough to leave the components of the research where they were, but the notes came with him. It would be difficult to understand one without the other. Making certain that the room was cleared for the morning's class, he left the lab and began the climb to Gryffindor Tower.

Even the portraits slept at this hour, and as Albus passed an open corridor on the outer east side, he spied the telltale sign of the tangerine sun beginning to make its appearance just below the horizon. He'd be lucky if he got two or three hours sleep before the day began. Maybe, if he skipped breakfast again, he could squeeze in another hour.

~~~***~~~

"A cup to a cat, Miss McGonagall," Professor Dumbledore patiently instructed. "At the present time your cup merely has a tail and ears."

The tall brunette flushed at the scrutiny, flourished her wand again, and tried once more, this time with success, as a brown and cream tabby pounced down from the table and dashed around the class. The sixth-year Gryffindors cheered the achievement, and Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands together and smiled. Minerva McGonagall had great potential, if she could only keep her thoughts focused on the task at hand rather than the Gryffindor Seeker she was paired with.

"Well done, well done," the Transfiguration professor praised. "Five points to Gryffindor for a fine example of the feline species," he awarded.

Miss McGonagall grinned proudly as the Gryffindor cheer rose again, nearly drowning out the bell as it rang to end the day. The students grabbed their books and dashed from the class. It was Friday. Dinner was always good on Friday, and the first Quidditch match of the season was tomorrow. Excitement was in the air.

Albus pulled his dark brown work robe closely around his body, leaned his backside onto the edge of the desk, and heaved a weary sigh. It had been a long week, and he was tired. Twice, he had gone to his friend's to spend hours discussing new approaches to the experiment, and each night, he was in the lab testing those approaches. So far, none had been successful. He was becoming discouraged, but it was small moments like this, in class, that made him feel like he was making a difference. He enjoyed watching the children's expressions change from disappointment to pride as they mastered new skills. _This_ is what kept him motivated.

~~~***~~~

Friday's dinner was indeed good: salmon pie, toss salad, fresh rolls, and lemon custard for dessert. As usual, Albus' side of the High Table was reasonably quiet, while the other side chattered loudly about the week. Headmaster Dippet's attention was repeatedly drawn to the left as their conversations were much more animated. Albus often wondered if Armando ever got a crick in his neck from having it tipped in that direction so often. He gave a small smile at the thought.

"I do enjoy pastry," Professor Merrythought voiced to no one in particular as he pried his fork between the pie crust and the salmon pate. "The house elves make it so flaky. It's like butter melting on your tongue."

Albus nodded absently and continued to eat. He was trying to decide whether to take a night off or go back to the lab.

"Don't you like the pie?" Professor Babbling sharply asked Professor Castlewood. "It's going to get cold if you let it sit there for too long."

Elizabett had been eating her salad and hadn't yet tasted the fish. She patted her mouth with her napkin before answering. "The flavour of the salmon is stronger when it's cold. I prefer it that way."

Professor Babbling "hmphed" and continued her meal. She preferred hers hot.

Albus overheard the comment and pushed a portion of his pie to the other side of the plate, cutting it into smaller pieces. It would cool faster that way. There was something to be said for trying new things. After a few moments, he lifted a portion to his mouth, and indeed, the flavour was stronger. He wasn't certain if he liked it, but another thought struck him. He rapidly downed the rest of his meal, excused himself from the table, and dashed out the back exit. _Some things are best cold._

~~~***~~~

Albus missed an exquisitely played Quidditch match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. No one had seen him since dinner the night before, and according to Professor Slughorn, he had missed yet another breakfast. It wasn't until much later in the evening when he was seen outside the gates of Hogwarts.

"We meet again," Elizabett smiled as she spied her colleague striding up the Hogsmeade path toward the trees.

Albus' head rose, and his blue eyes shone as he grinned back. "Another date, Miss Castlewood? It's quite late."

"No. I was out on my own," she casually replied as she opened the gate and made to head in.

"Really? Not with your beau?" Albus brows furrowed curiously as he followed. "Do you mind if I ask where you were?"

"Only if you promise not to laugh," Elizabett flushed slightly.

With his right hand, Albus made a cross across his heart and placed his hand over it. "I promise," he replied good-naturedly with a slight bow.

"The University of Edinburgh has a marvellous music department," Elizabett began as they traversed the dark trail. "Once a month they provide a free concert for those who wish to attend. I discovered their talents a few years ago and fell in love with the music. It's a different group each month," she explained.

Albus studied her seriously. "And, why would I have laughed? Music is wonderful, and it's good that you take the time to enjoy it."

"Well," Elizabett paused, "this is why Thomas won't go," she began to explain. "Although, he would probably sit through it, but complain later. He prefers modern music, like Swing, and this is…umm, chamber music. Classical, trios, quartets."

Albus' eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he pressed his lips together to withhold his smile.

"I knew it," Elizabett hung her head in embarrassment. "You want to laugh. Well, _I_ happen to like it," she drew her head up defiantly.

"I'm not laughing at you," Albus struggled to control his delight. "What was tonight's selection?"

Elizabett's jaw was set, and her pale blue eyes flashed. She was certain that he was making fun of her. "It was a trio. Violin, viola, and cello. The central piece was Mozart's Divertimento in E flat," she stated stonily.

Albus' eyes twinkled. "Lovely," he breathed, "although, I prefer Chopin, particularly his Nocturne series. Nocturne in B major for the piano is one of my favourites. Although, in general, I do prefer strings."

Elizabett's eyes widened in surprise. "I love the Nocturnes. They're so…eerie."

Albus smiled. "I agree, but peaceful as well."

Elizabett nodded as they continued toward the school. "And, where were you tonight? No one has seen you all day, and you missed the match."

"Who won?" he curiously asked.

"Ravenclaw. One hundred and sixty to one hundred and forty."

Albus bobbed his head. "Close game. It must have been exciting."

"If you don't want to answer the question, then tell me to mind my own business," Elizabett smiled at her colleague.

"It's Saturday," he reminded her.

"Ah, your friend. How is the work going?" she enquired.

Albus grinned. "I was at an impasse. Completely frustrated and going nowhere…until you helped."

"Me? What did I do?" She stopped in her tracks. His statement surprised her. She had hardly seen him this week.

"You like your salmon cold," he smiled to her furrowed brows. "That was the key."

"My cold salmon?" She was completely puzzled.

"I had been trying the experiment with a hot or room temperature base. It never occurred to me to chill it, but you were right. Temperature can affect the strength or in this case the potency of the elixir. I spent most of today going over the past few days' results with my friend, and he agrees that the cold made last night's trial a success." Albus was now beaming.

Elizabett smiled back. He looked so happy. His eyes shone brightly, and the little creases in the corners crinkled merrily as he spoke.

"My cold salmon made you this happy," she shrugged playfully. "I wonder what cold porridge would do."

Albus chuckled lightly. This was the most he had spoken to Elizabett since he'd known her. It was easy and felt comfortable. He liked her smile and undemanding manner. And her eyes, such an odd blue, pale, almost translucent near the pupil with a dark, navy ring around the iris. They held a sparkle that mesmerized him. Walking in silence for a while, Albus occasionally glanced in her direction, and as Elizabett made to step up a rocky section of the path, she lost her footing and began to tumble. Albus quickly grabbed her elbow, keeping her on her feet, and she smiled in gratitude. Oh, those eyes. By the time they reached the main entranceway and paused to say "good night", Albus chose to continue up the stairs with Elizabett. Not once did he look back toward the dungeons where Professor Slughorn stood at the top of the tunnel stairs waiting.

~~~***~~~

An icy rain pounded the castle all day Sunday, and Elizabett remained in her quarters, close to a toasty fire. The house elves were kind enough to provide her with light meals, as she didn't feel very hungry. She had work to do to prepare for the revisions and exams ahead, but her mind kept drifting back to the night before. She had enjoyed last night's repartee with Albus. It was fun, and once he accepted her presence, he spoke freely. She smiled. She seemed to have that effect on people. There had been many over the years who confided in her, those who felt that they could divulge their plans and dreams, hopes and fears. Never once had she betrayed a trust. She prided herself in that quality.

With a comfortable sigh, she eased back on the sofa, closed her eyes for a moment, and drifted off. Thomas floated into her dreams. He was tall and handsome, dressed in a crisp, white shirt, undone at the collar with the sleeves rolled up. His dark brown hair was tousled, and his emerald eyes danced with laughter. His trousers were rolled to the knee as he wadded in a pond on her parents' property. They were chasing frogs, and Thomas held a big, fat bullfrog in his hands. Elizabett laughed, then turned to run, but the bottom of the pond was muddy, and she had difficulty moving. He was talking as he reached her side, but she couldn't hear the words, and as they reached the edge of the pond, Elizabett turned to look into his face but found the face of an older man standing before her, his hand outstretched to help her out of the water. He was almost the same height as Thomas, but his tidy, auburn hair was past his shoulders, and his long beard was neatly tied with a braided string. His bright blue eyes sparkled as he silently spoke, the small creases in the corners crinkling joyfully. He reached for her, and Elizabett's heart pounded as her smile faded. She turned her head in search of Thomas, but he wasn't there. Elizabett gasped as she bolted to an upright position. She was breathing hard, disturbed by her dream. Rising from the sofa, she headed to the window and stood before it, staring out at the distorted images through the driving rain. _It was just a dream. Nothing more_, she assured herself. _It didn't mean anything_.

~~~***~~~

The following morning at breakfast, Elizabett arrived early and took her place at the High Table. Her toast and lemon tea arrived as others began to appear, and she watched the group carefully as she ate. Some, like Professor Babbling, never showed up. Thank goodness. Others, like Professor Kettleburn, were always there. He loved a big breakfast. But, she hoped that one teacher, in particular, would make an appearance. Just as she was about to give up, he arrived with Professor Slughorn close at his heels.

Elizabett leisurely sipped her tea and watched from the corner of her eyes where they would sit. Breakfast was much less formal than dinner, and Albus sat in his regular spot while Professor Slughorn took Professor Merrythought's vacant seat. As Albus adjusted himself, he silently tipped his head in acknowledgement to Elizabett who returned the nod. Professor Slughorn glared jealously at the younger teacher. Elizabett smiled sweetly in return, placed her cup back in the saucer and rose to leave. As she passed Albus, she discreetly withdrew her wand and gave a quick flick to the empty spot between his cutlery. Immediately, a stone cold bowl of porridge appeared from across the table. She continued to walk away grinning impishly to herself, but she could hear a low chuckle rise from the depths of his chest, and Professor Slughorn demand, "What's this?"

~~~***~~~

Elizabett had a break in the middle of the afternoon and took the opportunity to do some correcting at her desk. Sensing a disturbance in the room, she raised her head to see Professor Slughorn standing in the doorway of her class. His arms were clasped behind his back, and his belly stretched the dark green vest that he wore under his open teaching robes.

Elizabett could feel the hair of the back of her neck prickle, and she lowered her hands to her lap, reaching for her wand. "Can I help you?" she questioned the silent man.

Slughorn took several steps into the room, withdrew his wand, and closed the classroom door. Leisurely striding to her desk, he hoisted one stout leg and sat on the edge.

"You're an intelligent, young woman, obviously," he began quietly, "to have convinced the Ministry to allow you to teach about Muggles in this school." He didn't sound threatening, more matter-of-fact. "But, I do not believe that you are as meek and mild, or as innocent as you let on. You're a Castlewood, Slytherin to the core, even if you did end up in another House. I know how that group was raised. I've heard the stories and have taught many from that circle. I don't know what your motive is, but Professor Dumbledore is to be left alone. I will not stand by and watch you delude him. Is that understood?"

Elizabett bravely stared up at the Potions Master. She had been bullied by the best and was not about to let this man do it. "It is obvious, Professor, that you are somehow attached to Professor Dumbledore. The relationship between the two of you is none of my concern, but I assure you that I have no "intentions" toward him. We have met on occasion as we return from our various outings, and we have spoken, as I would not ignore someone who addresses me. I am being courted by another man and am loyal to him. Is that understood?" Elizabett coolly tossed his words back at him.

"Perfectly," Slughorn twisted his lips in the semblance of a smile as he slid off the desk. "I'm glad we're clear."

As he toddled toward the door, he stopped and turned, a puzzled look flittered across his face before he could catch it. "What did the cold porridge mean, this morning?"

Elizabett leaned back in her chair, steepled her fingers under her chin, and tipped her head slightly to the right. "Professor Dumbledore didn't tell you?" she asked.

"No, he wouldn't say," Slughorn sulked.

"Then, that is his prerogative. If he wanted you to know, he would have said," Elizabett countered with a fixed glare.

Slughorn puffed up angrily, and strode from the class.

Elizabett shook her head at his indignation, and straightened herself to continue her work. Twitching a satisfied smile as she began, she thought, _some things are best served cold_.


	7. 7 Never To Old To Learn

**7 – Never To Old To Learn**

The competition was on! It was an unofficial competition granted: one brewed up by the Prefects when Og and Professor Kettleburn brought in the twelve, massive, pine trees to adorn the Great Hall for the upcoming holiday season. Each House chose teams to decorate three trees each; guidelines and rules being created by the Prefects during lunch hours and breaks, and unanimously agreed upon by those participating. It was interesting to watch as the older students encouraged and involved some of the younger ones. It wasn't just for the creative and artistic, anyone could join in…at least for most of the Houses. As a precaution however, the Heads of House cast spells on the trees to protect them from sabotage, as some took the competition far too seriously. Still, it was great fun, and the result was twelve beautiful and uniquely decorated trees that lined the interior of the largest common room in the school.

~~~***~~~

Exams were set for the final week before the holiday feast, and Elizabett spent the entire week correcting hers. She wasn't used to the procedure and felt overwhelmed by the enormous amount of work that was involved. The exam hadn't been long, ten questions, but each required the students to process certain information and hypothesis, explain, or find solutions to situations. Elizabett wanted to see how each child would express themselves, but she was beginning to regret that decision when her eyes began to cross at the end of the third day, and the pile of papers didn't seem to get any smaller.

In the afternoon of the fourth day, Elizabett sat at her desk in her classroom, the bright sunshine beaming through the high, narrow windows on the right side of the long chamber. Exams were in square, wicker baskets on the floor surrounded her chair, and two piles burdened the surface of her desk, one class's in the process of being corrected. She tipped back in her seat with a heavy sigh: tired and wanting to cry. It was too much. Pushing the closest papers away, she leaned her elbows onto the cleared spot in front of her, and placed her face in her hands struggling for control.

"You okay, Professor?" a young voice sounded from the doorway.

Elizabett looked up to find Minerva McGonagall standing before her. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and forced a slight smile. "This is new to me." She waved toward the piles. "I want to give each student the attention that they deserve. I want to know if they understand, but there's so much."

"You see us twice week. You should have some idea of what we know." The sixth-year student smiled sympathetically at the fraught teacher. "May I offer a suggestion?" Elizabett nodded weakly. "I know that some teachers do this. They charm some quills with the right answers, but if you want an idea of how the class is doing, take a certain number out from each class to correct yourself. Maybe some students that seem to be having trouble or that don't leave an impression on you. It'll cut this load by over half, the job will still get done, and you'll have time to enjoy that sunshine and go to the dance…'cause at this rate, we won't see you until Easter." She grinned waving her hand at the scattered piles.

Elizabett smiled at her. "I'd been told about the charmed quills, but _your_ idea is better. You should consider becoming a teacher. You're so smart," she praised.

Minerva smiled at the compliment. "Glad I could help." She tipped her head politely and turned sharply to leave. "Oh, I forgot." She fished in her school robe pocket to retrieve a note, handing it to Elizabett who took it with a "thank you", and quickly exited the room.

Elizabett unfolded the slip of parchment and leaned back in her chair, her eyes beginning to sparkle. _Charmed quills,_ she tapped her lips gently with the tips of her fingers_. I'd better get started_.

~~~***~~~

Miss McGonagall's suggestion had been a Godsend, and Elizabett would have to thank her again. She finished the corrections by afternoon the following day, and felt a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. She still managed to get a feel of what the students had learned, and was able to enjoy the extra free time helping prepare for the holiday.

The note had been from Professor Flaurance asking for her assistance. Elizabett had befriended the Herbology instructor early on as she still enjoyed using her unique skill with the plants. Professor Flaurance had been awestruck the first time she saw Elizabett "encourage" a Delphinium to bloom out of season, and the two had struck up a quiet friendship based around the plants. The Professor's note had stated that the hollies she was growing as centrepieces for the High Table were fading, and she was at a loss to the reason why. Having tried all conventional methods, she asked Elizabett to lend a hand…or finger as it were.

With a single touch, the tiny, droopy, white flowers had perked up, and the red berries began to glisten. Helping the Herbology teacher carry the plants to the Great Hall, Elizabett was invited to join in the festive preparations. Professors Flaurance and Dillingworth grinned as Professor Babbling thrust a string of gaudy, green garland into Elizabett's hand and directed her where to hang it. Although she was abrupt, she wasn't as frosty as she normally was to the young teacher, and Elizabett said nothing at being commanded, as it didn't have the habitual bite. She was glad to help.

By the end of the afternoon, Professor Babbling seemed to have softened slightly and even twitched a smile once or twice. The other teachers gave Elizabett an encouraging smile. They knew how difficult the Runes professor had been toward the newcomer, and held hope that things were changing now that they had spent some time together working for a common goal. As it was, the four teachers stood back to admire their handiwork. The Great Hall was beautifully decorated with green and red garland, strings of silver and gold icicles, and the twelve stunning House trees. The charmed ceiling reflected a light snow that fell, dusting the air with glistening flakes. Once tonight's feast was over, the four massive House tables would be replaced with a scattered collection of smaller round tables adorned with crisp, white tablecloths and glowing frosted orbs. Sturdy wooden chairs would take the place of the benches, and a large area would be left vacant in the centre of the room for dancing. All in all, the effect would be lovely.

~~~***~~~

"So, this is where you're hiding." Professor Dumbledore found Elizabett resting by the half wall on the terrace overlooking the great expanse of the front grounds. Her rust-coloured robe reflected the shimmering gold highlights in her coiffured brown hair. The princess bodice was laced up the back, and the modestly high neckline was betrayed by sheer fabric over the collarbone. The same sheer material was used in the bell sleeves, and the crisp, silk skirt rustled gently as she moved.

"I wasn't hiding," Elizabett smiled pleasantly at her friend. "My toes needed to recover."

Albus chuckled lightly. "I saw. You were brave. Not many would accept Og's offer to dance. I'm surprised, though, that he even asked. He's usually not in attendance." He paused as he joined her, leaning his back against the wall. He wore a midnight blue robe with white and silver trim along the neck, front closure, and cuffs. The material seemed to shimmer as he moved, indicating an underlying, interwove thread of silver through the fabric. His auburn beard was tied together with a blue and silver braided string, and his eyes sparkled in the torchlight. "You've been in demand tonight. Merrythought, Kettleburn, Dippet, Og," he continued quietly, a gentle upward twitch of his lips creeping over his face. "I noticed that you even danced with a few senior Gryffindors and Ravenclaws."

Elizabett flushed. "I figured if they were brave enough to ask a teacher, they deserved at least one dance. I hope I didn't overstep my position," the thought of negative retribution suddenly flashing through her mind.

Albus' smile grew. "No fear." He shook his head. "Armando thought it was charming how you handled it, and felt that some of the rest of us could stand to learn from your daring."

"You've got to be kidding," Elizabett scoffed in disbelief.

"Actually, I think he was directing his comment toward a couple of professors, in particular, who avoid the students in all social situations. I think you have already encountered their…chill."

Elizabett's lips twitched. She knew exactly to whom he was referring. There was a comfortable silence for a moment, and the music could barely be heard through the open front doors.

"Albus," Elizabett began nervously, "would you care to dance with me?"

Albus' eyebrows raised slightly, the corners of his mouth curving again. "It's customary for the gentleman to ask a lady to dance."

"I know, but you didn't, and I was hoping you would, so I decided to be "daring"," Elizabett grinned at the Transfiguration professor.

"Here?" He spread his hands to the terrace.

"Why not?" Elizabett responded.

"I'm afraid I'm not very experienced. I may do your toes more harm than Og did," he sounded uncertain.

"Maybe I've overstepped myself with you." Elizabett lowered her head in embarrassment. "I apologize."

Albus discretely withdrew his wand from his sleeve, flicking it toward the ornate doors that led back to the Great Hall, amplifying the music slightly. Turning to his dance partner, he gave a short bow and spread his arms to a waltzing stance. "Never apologize for being brave. I would be honoured to dance with you, but I am quite serious. I'm not very good."

Elizabett stepped forward and accepted his hands, placing her left on his shoulder and gripping his hand gently in hers. "If you like music," she said softly, "then this should be easy. Close your eyes. Feel the melody enter you." She watched as Albus did as he was told, and together they began to move gracefully to the tune. With no one else to contend with, the couple freely traversed the entire terrace, chancing to try new moves: a twirl under an arm, a spin to offset the tempo, smiling happily until the music ended. Standing in the silence, they paused for a brief moment, gazing into each other's eyes before stepping away. Then, with a deep, final bow, Albus thanked Elizabett for the dance, and the two cordially returned to the rest of the party.

~~~***~~~

Morning came far too quickly, and the main entranceway was pure chaos as students, familiars and some staff made there way to the train and to Hogsmeade to head home for the holiday. Some of the revellers from the night before were droopy-eyed and groggy as they manoeuvred through the mass of bodies to head out. Elizabett was among the group heading to Hogsmeade. The Floo at the Hogs Head Inn had been procured to send the teachers home. She had reduced her luggage to a handbag size and moved with the flow as they manoeuvred through the massive, oak doors. Once at the boundary of the school, the students dispersed to the right, heading down the rocky trail toward the train, while the teachers turned left and walked the icy path toward town.

"Horace," Professor Bagshot's voice rang out over the group, "I thought you were staying at the school this year? Didn't I overhear you and Albus say something about working in the lab?"

"Yes, we're staying," the stout Potions Master replied, his eyes suspiciously scanning the crowd, "but I have business to attend to. Best do it quickly so I can get back. Don't want Albus to miss me for too long." An odd expression seemed fixed to his face.

As the teachers reached the local tavern, a queue began. Several were making connections to meet with family elsewhere, and needed to go first, while others took seats at the grim, little tables in the back. Elizabett was in no hurry, and she and Professor Bagshot ordered a pot of tea while they waited. Professor Slughorn sat at a nearby table speaking with Professor Merrythought, while green flashes of the Floo Network transported the travellers to their destinations. When it was Professor Bagshot's turn, she patted Elizabett's arm warmly, wishing her a Happy Christmas, then disappeared in the flames with a small wave. Within seconds, Professor Slughorn flopped into the vacant seat in front of Elizabett.

"You said you had no intentions," the Master began without hesitation as the chair creaked under his great weight.

Elizabett startled at the abruptness, not knowing what he was talking about. Her expression showed her confusion.

"Dumbledore, you ninny," he hissed. "I saw the two of you last night. The way you looked at each other. Don't you know what kind of a man he is?" Slughorn baited. "Hufflepuff, right, certainly not Ravenclaw." He rolled his eyes indignantly as Elizabett shook her head, completely puzzled. "I am curious, though, why he shows interest in you. He rarely shows interest in anyone, keeps mostly to himself, but he needs me, and I would appreciate if you'd keep your distance."

Flustered, Elizabett finally found her tongue. "I think Professor Dumbledore is old enough to make decisions for himself as to the company he chooses to keep, and I don't know what you're talking about…the looks? There are no "looks". My goodness Professor, this is the second time you have approached me on this subject. You're acting like a jealous lover."

Slughorn flushed as his eyes narrowed. Leaning back in the ancient, wooden chair, he folded his hands across his belly. "He certainly _is_ old enough. Too old for _you_." He chose to ignore her last comment. "You say you're being courted by another man, yet you behave like a free woman," he insulted. "I've known harlots with more scruples than you."

Elizabett reacted like she had been slapped across the face. How dare he! Pressing her lips together to restrain the curse rapidly rising, she forcibly, but calmly, rose from the table and made her way toward the fireplace.

Slughorn smugly rose behind her, and cast his last words. "Truth is hard to take, isn't it?"

With that, Elizabett spun on the spot and took two paces to face her colleague, ignoring the few remaining teachers that were watching the interaction. Keeping her face expressionless, her demeanour outwardly calm, she drew her projective hand up and made a small grasping motion in the air. Slughorn immediately went silent, grabbing his throat, and mouthing inaudibly. His face grew scarlet and contorted with rage as he realized that she had wordlessly cursed his voice away.

"If you ever speak to me like that again, you will lose your voice permanently. Do I make myself clear?" Elizabett eyes flashed with quiet warning. She could see Slughorn's jaw tighten as he reluctantly nodded. "I'm not your enemy," she continued softly. "There are enough destructive forces to contend with without fighting each other over trivial matters." Elizabett began to calm. "I'm going home for the holiday, Professor," she turned to the Floo once again. "Happy Christmas," she tossed over her shoulder as she stepped in.

Professor Slughorn glared at the retreating back of the young teacher. She was just as he anticipated – dangerous, so very Slytherin, but he also had to reluctantly admire her nerve. She was stronger than he thought, not someone to challenge.

As the Floo turned green and Elizabett disappeared, Slughorn's voice re-emerged, and he reconsidered his opinion, a Slytherin would not have let him off so easily. He would have to remember this in the future.


	8. 8 Happy Holidays

**8 – Happy Holidays**

Pine bows and holly berries were strung from the thick, oak mantle and down the matching railing of the staircase that led to the floor above. A sprig of mistletoe was tied with a bright red ribbon from the chandelier over the immaculate foyer. The entrance to Castlewood Manor was warm and inviting, and the stone fireplace that faced the double front doors was large enough to accommodate at least two travellers at a time.

Julius Castlewood slowly descended the stairs, his nose in a large, leather-bound ledger when he heard the "whoosh" of the Floo activating. Snapping the tome shut, he rapidly made his way to the hearth, placing the book on a small, wooden table to the left as his daughter stepped through.

"Welcome home, my love!" He adoringly gathered the young woman into his arms, giving her an affectionate squeeze. "Marceilla, Elizabett's home," he called to his wife who dashed from the sitting room to greet her daughter.

Julius and Marceilla Castlewood were aging gracefully. Julius' chestnut hair was still shoulder-length and neatly tied with a dark brown ribbon, as it had always been, but it was beginning to pepper at the temples and sideburns. He was a handsome man of average height with broad shoulders, a poker-straight back, a winning smile, and sparkling, deep blue eyes. He wore his habitual home attire: a navy and black brocade smoking jacket with matching cravat over a crisp, white shirt. The black trousers had such a sharp crease down the front that one could use it as a straightedge. His shoes were of rare Horned Back dragon hide, his pride. Marceilla was a head shorter than her husband with the same slight build as her daughter. Her light brown hair was coiffered into a loose, low bun with gentle, greying tendrils curling at the temples. Elizabett definitely had her mother's eyes for they shone with the same pale blue that attracted much attention. Marceilla was flawlessly dressed in a navy blue robe that clung neatly to her youthful form. Time was treating them well, and Elizabett smiled proudly at her parents.

With her father taking her cloak and her mother grasping her hands, both talking at the same time, Elizabett instantly felt the love and comfort of home, and her jaw began to quiver. Pulling her mother into a tight hug, she whispered, "I've missed you so much. It's good to be home."

Her mother returned the embrace, then pulled back, patting Elizabett's cheek lovingly. "It's good to have you home. Come, my dear, let's get you unpacked."

~~~***~~~

For the next few days, Elizabett basked in the love and attention of her parents. Their annual Yule celebration was approaching, and Thomas and his family had also been invited for Christmas day. Plans were made, and all Elizabett had to do was show up. It felt good.

On the evening of the Yule celebration, Thomas arrived early to spend a few quiet moments with Elizabett. A light snow had fallen, and the air was clean and crisp, but not too cold. The couple donned they cloaks and took a private stroll around the grounds of Castlewood Manor. They talked and joked like the two old friends that they were, and took a friendly wager on how the guests that night would react to their courting. Although most knew of the situation, many claiming to have suspected it all along, the couple had not yet been seen within the circle since the announcement.

At the pond, Elizabett paused for a moment, and watched the ducks paddling in the icy water. Thomas stood by her side, his gloved hand protectively holding to hers. Elizabett's lips turned up slightly at the childhood memory of summertime frog catching, but it quickly vanished as she recalled another, more recent, dream. Thomas watched as her expression changed, but said nothing. Leading her away toward the old willow behind the house, they continued their stroll.

Upon reaching the destination, out of view from the manor, Thomas turned Elizabett's back to the tree and ran his gloved finger down her cheek to her chin, tipping her head back to meet his eyes. Leaning forward, he gently caressed his nose against hers, their lips brushing lightly together as he whispered, "I've missed you so much."

Responding to his touch, Elizabett returned the kiss. He had such soft lips. Thomas took this as his cue and instantly deepened it, grasping her shoulders ardently, massaging his long fingers through her cloak and into the muscle, desperately pulling her closer. Elizabett was caught by surprise, not expecting such an aggressive move, and shuddered involuntarily. Her hands grabbed hold of the front of his cloak, not certain whether she wanted to accept the advance or push him away. Thomas' arms worked under her cloak and around her back, pulling her body close to his, enveloping her within the abundant material. His hands stroked her spine, moving their way up and down, until they finally spanned her buttocks lifting her to balance on a low branch of the old willow. His lips passionately drew a path from her cheek to her ear to her collarbone, his hands purposefully moving from her back to her chest.

"Thomas, no," Elizabett breathlessly gasped pulling back slightly, teetering on the branch, and gently moving his hands away.

Thomas lifted his head to gaze longingly into her eyes. "Lizzie, it's all right. We're courting. I've dreamt of having you close. Do you not love me?"

Elizabett knew that physical intimacy would eventually be the next step in their relationship, and like he said, they were courting. It would be expected. She enjoyed being with him, enjoyed kissing him. She felt comfortable when they were together. But, she wasn't ready. There was something…missing, and she didn't know what. Over the years, she had listened to other women talk, even some of the senior girls at school, about how their knees went weak, how they got butterflies in their stomachs, how they swooned at the prospect of seeing their love again. Elizabett had always thought they were silly and immature. She had never felt that way about anyone. She looked forward to the times when she and Thomas planned to see each other, but she certainly didn't feel ill over it, and at the moment, she just couldn't seem to …rise to the occasion the way Thomas obviously had.

"Lizzie," Thomas quietly snapped her attention back to the moment, "I asked you a question." His eyes implored for a consenting response.

"I'm not ready," she muttered apologetically. "I know it's the next step, but…" She looked away biting her lower lip.

"Oh, Lizzie." Thomas nuzzled her neck gently. "It's all right. Just let it happen." He pressed his body close to hers, and she could feel his need driving into her abdomen.

She closed her eyes, and opened her senses to the moment, but when he lifted his hand to caress her breast again, her eyes snapped open, and she reactively brushed it away. "No," she whispered again, "no, I can't."

Thomas groaned and lowered his head to her shoulder. "Lizzie, I've waited so long. I think of you every night. You haunt my dreams. I thought the willow…our willow…it would be romantic."

Elizabett's lips twitched upward slightly. Cupping his cheek and lifting his head, she rubbed her nose against his, tenderly kissing the tip. "That was a sweet gesture, but it's not something that can be forced. It'll happen when it happens," she warmly stated as she slid down from the branch. They seemed to trade places, Elizabett standing facing the tree while Thomas slumped his backside onto the bough. "Come on." She reached her hand to him. "The guests will be arriving soon. We need to get ready."

Thomas shook his stooped head slowly. "You go. I'm going to sit here for a few minutes."

Elizabett's brows furrowed with concern, and she stepped closer, running her fingers down his arm. "I _am_ sorry, Thomas." She did love him and hadn't wanted to hurt him.

Thomas kept his chin down but looked up from under his fringe of dark hair. "I'll live," he said quietly, his cheeks turning a bright crimson. "I just can't make the walk at the moment." Elizabett's concern turned to puzzlement until he shifted uncomfortably and opened his cloak over his lap. His trousers were tightly tented, an impressive bulge straining the material. He quickly closed the cloak and hung his head as Elizabett's own cheeks flushed.

She took a step forward and sat on the branch beside him, taking his gloved hand in hers. "So, that's what I do to you?" she asked roguishly, a playful twitch creeping over her lips. He smiled sheepishly and gave her fingers a squeeze. "If I go back without you, there'll be questions," she said as she sat by his side. "Is there something I can do to help?" she asked innocently.

Thomas snorted humorously. "My love, the mere thought of you can create this situation. In lieu of the obvious solution, I'm afraid it may take a while."

"Well, I hope not too long," Elizabett sighed as she solemnly gazed up at the manor. "Evan Rosier is supposed to be coming tonight. Father tried to stop him, but he wanted to "discuss" a few things with the circle. We all know what that means. He's going to try to recruit followers for Grindelwald, shame us into participating. Apparently, he's made some sort of promise to his master. He's such a bully, just like the rest of his family. I really could use you there for moral support."

Thomas' face hardened. "You can't be serious!" he snapped, leaping to his feet. "Your father invited that clan? How could he? He knows what they're like. He knows what happened in the school this year. I can't believe it!" He angrily paced in front of Elizabett who innocently gazed up at her old friend.

Standing, she reached for his hand, turning him to face her. "Think you can walk now?" she smirked.

"Oh, please, tell me you were joking," he beseeched, rolling his eyes at her playful expression. "Lizzie?" he said in a mock, warning tone.

"Mmmaybe." She edged backward toward the manor still smirking. "Effective, wasn't it?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief

"Evil. Simply evil," he chuckled as he made to chase her up the path.

With a squeal of laughter, Elizabett turned and ran, Thomas close at her heels. The race was on to see who would make it to the house first.

~~~***~~~

The party was wonderful and lasted until the wee hours of morning. Thomas and Elizabett shared the bet on how the guests would react to their announcement. Music filled the air, and glasses clinked merrily, the guests demanding that the couple kiss under the mistletoe, to which they quite happily obliged.

A few days later, on Christmas morning, the Cresswells appeared to share in Christmas day festivities with their close friends. In the ruckus of distributing presents, Thomas made a grand gesture and handed a rather large, boot-sized box to Elizabett. She eyed him suspiciously and tugged at the bright silver ribbon that held the colourful paper. When she lifted the lid, and rummaged through the crumpled packing paper, she found another smaller box. Thomas laughed while the others anxiously watched. Unwrapping the second box, she lifted the lid to find a third, even smaller, box. The smallest box fit into the palm of her hand, and Elizabett's breath grew short. She swallowed hard thinking of what could be little enough to fit inside, and in the back of her mind, she hoped that her thought was wrong.

Untying the ribbon on the tiny gift, she creaked the hinged lid open, a breath of relief slowly being expelled. In Thomas' position as Liaison Officer with goblins, he had made some interesting connections, one of which was with a goblin silversmith. Thomas had presented Elizabett with an exquisitely carved, oval locket, small diamonds set into the filigree that adorned the outer edge. A scripted E was engraved on the front. Elizabett smiled brightly as she lifted the gift from the box to show the parents.

An obvious pout appeared on Thomas' mother's face, and Marceilla also appeared disappointed. They had been hoping for an engagement announcement.

Elizabett's gift to Thomas, in her mind, paled in comparison. On a trip to Diagon Alley with Professor Bagshot in early December, she had purchased a lovely pair of gold cufflinks. Each held a small emerald to which, Elizabett thought, matched Thomas' eyes. He loved them and put them on immediately, placing his others into his coat pocket.

~~~***~~~

Thomas returned to work shortly after the New Year began but made plans to visit with Elizabett regularly. They would have a standing date for the last Saturday of each month, unless special circumstances arose, details to be forwarded by owl. Julius had several meetings planned with associates, which left Marceilla and Elizabett to their own devices. In the week prior to Elizabett's return to Hogwarts, she and her mother travelled to the tiny village of Juan Les Pins on the Mediterranean coast in the south of France. Marceilla had grown up this quaint fishing village, and it was always a treat to visit.

Having procured a Portkey from the Ministry, they arrived in the early morning on a familiar hill by an antiquated, stone cottage that sat in a dell by the sea. A withered, old woman sat in a rocking chair on the front porch wrapped in a dark blanket, humming to herself when the two younger women approached. Pushing the rickety, picket gate open, Marceilla hurried up the path and climbed the steps to the old house.

"Bonjour, maman," Marceilla hugged the old woman fondly. "C'est froid dehors. Pourquoi vous asseyez-vous ici?" _(Hello, mama. It's cold outside. Why are you sitting here?)_

"Je vous attends, mon petit." _(I'm waiting for you, my little one)_ The old woman smiled brightly at the pair, her wrinkles deepening with the grin. She had once been an attractive woman, but at one hundred and six years old, her long white hair was thin and wispy, and she was very frail. "Elizabett," she reached fondly for her granddaughter's hands, "you are beautiful. Come, we go inside now." Using Elizabett as leverage, she hoisted her slight body from the rocker and cautiously toddled through the heavy, blackened door. The others followed.

The interior was just as Elizabett had remembered, and probably hadn't changed much from when Marceilla was a child. The house was small with only two bedrooms off the large main room. Odd clusters of herbs hung drying from the rafters. Jars of potion ingredients sat on shelves to the right of a long chopping counter which also held a sink and drain board. Various sized cauldrons were neatly stacked under the shelves, while a collection of ancient stirring rods, spoons and ladles hung from a braided rope suspended from the ceiling. The house was made of ancient beams and stone that dated back hundreds of years, and on the far side of the main room, a great, stone fireplace smoldered, the ashes on the hearth probably being a month old. Elizabett stood in the doorway examining the chamber, a small smile growing on her lips. This was probably the image that many Muggles had of when they thought of a witch. The only thing missing was the gingerbread.

Shuffling to her comfortable rocker by the fire, the old woman withdrew her wand and gave a delicate flick toward the kettle that hung from a hook over the flame. Motioning for her visitors to sit, she summoned tea from one of the many jars and cups from a shelf to the left of the sink. Once the kettle boiled, tea was made, and the women chatted. When Elizabett reached for her cup, her grandmother grasped her hand and flipped the palm up. She cackled lightly as she examined the lines.

"A man," she softly announced. "A tall man. Intelligent. Handsome. He is in your heart," she stated clearly with a knowing tone.

"Elizabett is being courted by a Cresswell, maman. They've known each other since they were children," Marceilla responded to the mother's declaration as the old woman studied Elizabett's hand intently. She raised her eyes curiously at her daughter's proclamation and glanced up at Elizabett, but said nothing more.

As the morning turned to afternoon, the conversation moved from topic to topic, and the women enjoyed the diversity of the three generations. By early evening, Marceilla and Elizabett prepared a light dinner while the sun set over the gentle waves of the cold sea. Candles were lit, and the women settled in for the night.

In the late hour, as the half moon shone brilliantly in the midnight sky, Elizabett curled up on the window seat, by the large front pane, gazing out at the stars that glittered over meadow that constituted the front yard. She could tell that it was nearly three in the morning as the moon was on its descent. She couldn't sleep. She didn't understand, as much as she loved her family, she wanted to go back to Hogwarts. The floor creaked as another person entered the room.

"I had to pee. What's your excuse?" the old voice asked comically.

"I couldn't sleep," Elizabett turned affectionately to her grandmother.

"Thinking about your man?" She winked, toddling to her rocker and easing herself into it.

"Not really. I was thinking about the school where I work. Funny," she snorted lightly. "I miss it."

"This man in your heart, he is at this school." Her grandmother's comment was more a statement than a question.

"No," Elizabett clarified, "Thomas works for the Ministry."

The old woman shook her head, a strange, little smile creeping over her features. "No. I saw it in your hand. The man who holds your heart is where you work."

Elizabett gazed at her grandmother, her heart pounding in her chest. Her breath grew short. She wanted to refute the old woman's words, but she knew better. One hundred years of witchcraft in one small woman. She was experienced in palmistry. Could she really be right? It would explain her reluctance with Thomas. Elizabett's silent gaze was enough to confirm her grandmother's pronouncement, and the old woman rose and tapped her granddaughter kindly on the shoulder.

"Follow your heart, cherie. In your heart, you know what is right for you." With that, the old woman returned to her bed, leaving Elizabett to ponder a very confused collection of thoughts.


	9. 9 Comfort Found In Friendship

**9 – Comfort Found In Friendship**

Sleet lashed the sides of the castle sending ice-cold breezes through the open corridors. Students huddled together as they made their way from the relatively dry main building to the greenhouses and Care of Magical Creatures compound by the Forbidden Forest. Those returning from the outer classes dripped profusely leaving large puddles for the caretaker to mop up. It was not a pleasant way to end the week, and Elizabett had taken pity on many of the younger student, performing numerous Drying Charms so that they didn't catch their death by colds. Many of the older students followed Elizabett's lead, and a sense of camaraderie filled the small group.

By dinner, everyone was thankful for the hearty mutton stew and hot bread biscuits that were served. There were even a few squeals of delight, even from the High Table, when a hot fudge pudding was produced to end the meal. Professor Kettleburn couldn't restrain himself, and many chuckled at his child-like display.

By early evening, the dreariness of the storm had definitely infiltrated the school drawing many to seek comfort and refuge with friends and contemporaries. Clusters of students were seen heading for the library or their Common Rooms, while a small group of teachers made their way to the warmth of the staff lounge.

"Bloody cold," Professor Slughorn complained as he flopped his considerable weight into an overstuffed love seat near the fire. "Come, Albus," he boldly patted the spot beside him. "Keep me warm."

Several heads turned questioningly to the silent, older professor who raised an eyebrow in rebuke to the Potions Master from across the room.

"Why do you put up with that?" Bathilda asked in a hushed tone, jerking her head in the direction of their offensive colleague as they filled their cups with tea. "Please don't tell me that you two are…" She shuddered unable to bring herself to finish the sentence.

Albus' faded blue eyes held no sparkle as he glanced over his right shoulder to his friend. Scanning the room, he changed the subject. "Miss Castlewood is not with us tonight."

"No," Bathilda replied with concern. "She said she was going out. I tried to stop her. Surely that beau of hers would understand if she didn't make it tonight. It's not fit for man or beast out there." She tipped her head toward rain pelting the diamond-paned window.

"Going out? She usually meets him on Saturday. It's Friday…" Albus thought out loud as he stopped stirring his tea.

Bathilda raised her eyebrow in amusement. "You know her schedule?"

"We've met a few times as we return from our outings." He covered himself abruptly. "The only time I met her on a Friday, she was…" He looked up as a clap of thunder rumbled through the chamber, and the door to the lounge swung open.

Headmaster Dippet strode in, a wet, little waif following in his wake. "Look what I found dripping in the main entranceway," he said in amusement.

Elizabett looked up from under her hood, her exposed hair plastered to the sides of her face, her cloak heavy from being wet. She was not pleased, looking very downcast and humiliated.

"Goodness child. Have you no sense? You've been casting Drying Charms all day. Use one on yourself," Professor Babbling scolded from her seat at the table.

"I did," Elizabett replied tersely. "Twice. The Water Repelling Charm lost its effectiveness with the lightening. I wanted to go to my quarters, but the Headmaster brought me here." If looks could kill…

Within a flash, the Muggle Studies teacher was struck with a collection of spells, and she was warm and dry within seconds. No less than four of her colleague had cast.

"Thank you," she expressed as she turned her back to the entertained group and tried to leave.

"What would possess you to go out in that mess if you didn't have to?" Bathilda waved toward the window as she approached the younger teacher.

Elizabett said nothing. She didn't trust her voice at the moment. She was so upset with the weather and herself that she wanted to cry.

"I think I know." Albus joined the History of Magic teacher. "Come with me," he invited as he opened the door for Elizabett to pass through.

"Where to?" Elizabett croaked.

There was a slight sparkle in Albus' eye when he said, "You'll see."

Professor Slughorn gnashed his teeth silently as he watched the pair leave, and all but threw his cup of tea into the fireplace.

~~~***~~~

Elizabett followed the Transfiguration professor through the Entrance Hall and up the flight of stairs that led to the second floor, then down the corridor that led to the maze of staircases that shifted and moved, usually at the most inopportune moments. Albus placed his hand on the rail of the first staircase, and the steps stopped. Proceeding up, the two made their way higher and higher.

"Where are you taking me?" Elizabett finally broke the silence.

Albus turned to look down at her as they climbed, the sparkle in his eyes enhancing the deep blue. A slight twitch of his lips gave him an air of amused mystery, but he stayed quiet and continued to lead the way.

"Albus, I really would rather just give up for the night. I've not had a very good day," Elizabett complained as they strode down yet another corridor.

With that, he turned to face her, and set his hands on her shoulders to hold her in place. "We're here," he announced. Then, pacing the hall three times, an ornate door magically appeared on a vacant wall.

Elizabett gazed at it in awe. "I'd heard of this place, but I've never seen it." She approached the newly materialized entryway with her hand outstretched.

"You've never had the need," Albus replied softly. "Close our eyes," he instructed.

Opening the door, he took her elbow and led her in. Instantly, a smile spread over her face. He remembered. Why would he remember? Before she opened her eyes, she knew where she was. The sound of musical instruments tuning assaulted her ears, but she didn't care. Running her hand down his arm, she grasped his fingers warmly, giving them a light squeeze. Returning the squeeze, Albus instructed her to open her eyes.

The room was set up like a small concert hall, with rows of spindly chairs facing a raised dais, which supported a string quartet. The musicians were carefully tuning their instruments while "other patrons" mingled. When the conductor rose to the platform, the "guests" took their seats, and the lights dimmed. Albus and Elizabett sat in the front row waiting for the music to begin. Antonio Vivaldi's _Four Seasons_ was beautifully performed with magical skill. It was lovely. During the concert, Elizabett felt a rush of warmth and a tingle run through her body as her leg occasionally brushed up against his. This was such a thoughtful gesture.

At intermission, Albus led her to an adjacent room that Elizabett hadn't noticed in her initial inspection. She laughed out loud at the detail of the reception room. A large drink fountain sat on a table on the far side spouting a pink liquid, while on either side of the fountain rows of punch glasses were lined up. Trays of canapés and scrumptious hors d'ouvres were on an adjoining table. Albus led her to the fountain and poured her a drink. She took a sip and laughed again.

"Lemonade," she grinned.

"Ah, not just any lemonade," Albus replied holding his cup up to the light. "Pink lemonade," he announced with a boyish smile.

She returned his smile affectionately, and a quiver began in her stomach.

"I hope you're enjoying the concert," he continued. "I didn't know what the selection was, so, shall we say, I'm winging it."

"It's wonderful," Elizabett replied. "And, so sweet of you."

"I couldn't believe that you would try to go out in that weather for a concert. It must be important to you."

"It was a special performance, but I think it was more my arrogance that got me. I thought I could handle it, but when I arrived at the boundary gate, I had to swallow my pride. I lost my footing and slid into the fence," Elizabett confessed, unconsciously rubbing her knee.

"You were injured?" Albus showed his concern.

"Not too badly. I wrenched my knee and got a scrape."

"The Headmaster prevented you from going to the hospital wing when he brought you to the staff lounge." Albus seemed annoyed.

"I think the weight of my wet cloak covered the limp," Elizabett replied.

"I didn't even notice," Albus admonished himself. "And, I had you walk all the way up here. You said you wanted to turn in. Here," he led her to a chair near the wall. "Sit. Let me take a look." He knelt before her, his silver gray robe pooling around him.

Lifting the hem of her skirt, she exposed her injured knee. There was a nasty, red scrape, and it was slightly swollen, but there was no major harm. Albus withdrew his wand and cast a Healing Charm, knitting the damaged skin together.

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for the swelling. A little ice maybe, but I'd advise you stay off of it for a while." He rose to his feet and slid into the chair beside her.

The lights in the reception room flickered indicating the return of the quartet, and Elizabett giggled again. "You thought of everything, didn't you?"

The corner of Albus' mouth curled upward in a twisted half smile, and he simply shrugged. Standing, he offered his hand to assist Elizabett to her feet. She graciously took it, placing the tips of her fingers in his palm. Her breath caught, and her heart thudded once as a shot of warmth spread through her body. Standing to face her colleague, she gazed up into his cobalt eyes, locking the stare for a moment.

"You've been hurt before," Elizabett whispered. "There's much pain. Much loss. Family. Your heart." Her brows knitted together. "Albus, I'm so sorry."

Abus slowly pulled his hand from hers, the smile sliding from his face.

"I'm sorry," Elizabett said again. "I didn't mean to pry. The impression was so clear, so intense." She reached to touch his sleeve; his lips were pressed tightly together as he looked away. "Please believe me," she pleaded. "I didn't mean to pry."

He turned toward the concert hall as the lights flickered again. "It's time we returned," he said as he led the way back to their seats.

Elizabett felt horrible for the rest of the concert. Albus wouldn't look her way, and she felt a weight in the pit of her stomach that made her feel ill. He had given her such a wonderful gift, and she returned the favour by inadvertently entering his senses. When the concert was over, Albus silently escorted Elizabett back down the maze of staircases toward the teacher's wing. At the last minute, he detoured to the left and took another corridor. Elizabett wasn't certain whether she was invited to follow or whether he was leaving her there to find her own way back. But, when he realized that she was not behind him, he stopped and turned, a puzzled look on his face.

"Are you coming?" he invited.

Elizabett picked up the pace and joined him. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see." That playful twitch was back on his lips, and Elizabett's tension began to ease.

They stopped at a large portrait of a market, and Albus reached to tickle the pear in the fruit basket held by the vendor. As he did, a hidden door swung open.

"This place has more secrets than I imagined," Elizabett voiced in admiration.

Upon entering, Albus and Elizabett were surrounded by a dozen or so house elves, each wanting to please the visiting teachers. Albus was friendly to them, treating them kindly, and stating that he would like to have his usual for two and inquired if they would mind if they sat at the little preparation table to the side. Quickly, the elves cleared the table and set it for the guests. When Elizabett and Albus took their seats, two steaming cups of hot cocoa and a plate of ginger snaps were placed before them.

"I was afraid that you were mad at me," Elizabett finally confessed, reaching for a biscuit.

"Mad. No." Albus shook his head gently. "A bit unnerved. I'm usually quite good at keeping people at a distance, even those I let get close. Did you sense it though the eyes?"

"No," Elizabett stated, "Through your hands. My grandmother has a gift with hands. She says that I share the same gift."

"Palmistry?"

"Kind of, but not really. I felt it through your palm. Palmistry reads the lines that life has placed on you, what the person is like, and through these lines one can analyse things from the past and see how they can affect the future. This was more emotional, almost empathic." Elizabett twitched a little smile. "I'm pretty good at reading palms, too. Maybe one day you'll let me read yours."

Albus gazed across the table at the young woman. She was indeed intriguing, and he was tempted to let her do it…but not tonight.

Time passed, the hot cocoa was refilled several times, and the conversation was a comfort between companions. They spoke freely about their lives and experiences, events and reasons that had brought each to Hogwarts, and even began to divulge some aspects of their pasts, although it was obvious that some sensitive issues were skirted. It didn't matter. The steady comfort of another's company was something that had been missing in both of their lives.

It wasn't until activity renewed in the massive kitchen when the pair realized the time. Although still early, house elves had returned to begin the morning's breakfast.

"Goodness," Albus exclaimed. "I don't remember the last time I stayed up all night talking. Come," he invited as he rose. "I'll escort you back to your quarters."

Reaching his hand to assist Elizabett up, she delicately placed her fingers in his, tips touching the palm.

"What do you feel?" he asked with a mischievous smirk.

"Warmth. Kindness. Comfort. You're happy." She smiled up at him, watching the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Indeed, he was, for the first time in a very long time.

Along an open corridor, the early morning rays could be seen beginning to glow over the horizon, and the pair took a moment at one on the glassless windows to admire the growing colours. It promised to be a better day, the heavy clouds from the previous night having dissipated leaving fluffy white cumulus in its wake. As they turned to continue their route, Elizabett instinctively slipped her hand through the crook of Albus' arm and felt his elbow flex slightly to keep it there. At the door to her quarters, she pulled her hand back and thanked him for the wonderful evening. A rush of heat flowed through her and that quiver in her stomach was back. He smiled kindly and tipped his head toward her in a bid "good bye". She stood silently watching as he began to turn away. Her breath was short. She wanted something more. At the last moment, he turned back, and her heart leapt. Taking a pace forward, leaving no more than an inch between them, he brushed a light kiss onto her cheek.

"Happy Valentines," he whispered softly as he retreated to his path without another word.

Elizabett's knees nearly buckled, her heart pounding in her ears, the blood rushing to her cheeks making her dizzy.

"Tired. I'm just tired," she made an excuse as she struggled to open her door.

Inside, she made her way to the bathroom to wash up, stripped off her clothes, and climbed into bed. As tired as she was, her senses were very much alert. The sheet against her sensitive skin aroused her in a way that she had never felt. Rolling onto her side, she pulled the pillow close and snuggled into it, wrapping her arms around and closing her eyes. Finally, sleep took over, and her dream began with Vivaldi's _Four Seasons_.


	10. 10 Thoughts

**10 - Thoughts**

Elizabett sat in her quarters by the large inset window that overlooked the Forbidden Forest. It had been a busy day, but with the sun remaining longer in the sky and the air turning from a deep chill to a mere crisp, she was not as tired as she had been in past weeks.

Curling her feet under and leaning her head against the glass, she peacefully enjoyed the change of colours as the sun began to set behind the castle, darkness rising before her over the trees. Unconsciously, her fingers toyed with the small box on the ledge. Flipping the lid up, the melodic notes of the _Emperor's Waltz_ filtered into the room. The music box had been a gift from Thomas on Valentine's Day.

They had met at Collingwoods the Saturday night after the storm, had enjoyed a wonderful dinner, and had danced until well after midnight. There was a slight tension in the air, but they laughed it off, claiming it was simply due to being overworked. It was very late when they walked to the Apparition point in London. Thomas gripped her hand firmly and made a bold suggestion that they go to Hyde Park to watch the sun rise. The wine throughout the evening had enhanced his amorous demeanour, and with the glint in his eye, it was obvious what was on his mind. Elizabett closed her eyes and sighed at the memory. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't bring herself to cross that line. To kiss, to embrace, yes, but to allow him to touch. She shuddered. Poor Thomas had become angry, his advances having been thwarted once again. His frustration was clear even though he tried to be understanding, but Elizabett knew her friend far too well. She knew that he was disappointed. He escorted her back to Hogsmeade, and they solemnly walked to the castle gate, neither saying very much. They had kissed "good night", but their hearts were heavy. Elizabett had placed her head on his chest in a caring embrace, and he had stroked her spine, his head resting on the top of hers. They both sighed sadly, and after Thomas left, Elizabett made her way to the main courtyard and sat on one of the many stone benches. The sky was clear, and the full moon shone brightly. As a child, she spoke to the Goddess regularly but had gotten out of the habit, as she grew older. She loved Thomas. She didn't want to hurt him. He was her closest friend. She couldn't understand why she hesitated in proceeding in their relationship.

The moon glowed, and a wisp of cloud passed over it, muting the bright light, drawing her attention to a small torch flickering at the highest point of the Astronomy Tower.

A loud knock sounded on her door startling Elizabett from her thoughts. Closing the lid of the music box, she awkwardly unfolded her legs and stretched, hobbling across the room. Swinging the door open, she was met with a broad, white grin from beneath a cropped, brown beard.

"You wanted to know when it was happening." Professor Kettleburn could barely contain himself. "Well, it's happening now." He fairly bounced on the spot.

"What's happening?" Elizabett fought to follow his line of thinking.

"The Bowtrickles!" the Care of Magical Creatures instructor announced excitedly. "They're coming out of hibernation. It's really something to see. There are a number of students and teachers heading in that direction now. Are you coming?"

"Absolutely!" Elizabett grinned as she _Accio_'d her cloak. This was something that she had been looking forward to. The forest truly became "alive" as the minute; stick-like creatures unhinged themselves from the trees to which they had attached themselves to in the autumn. In the dim light of dusk, they looked like fairies as they woke and leapt to the ground. Students had to be kept at a distance for they had a tendency to squeal, frightening the small creatures that had slept through the winter.

Following her colleague, the pair hurried to the Main Entrance to join the crowd heading to the forest. Professor Kettleburn shouted instructions to the group and gave Og the "okay" to lead the younger students out. Elizabett and several other teachers trailed behind to keep control of the stragglers.

"This is so exciting!" Professor Flaurance exclaimed as she pulled her cloak around her, dusting the dirt from her hands onto the grubby robe that she wore. "I was in the middle of transplanting some Mandrakes. They're mature now and needing a bit more room in their pots."

"Oh, good," Professor Slughorn boasted as he accompanied his colleagues. "Madam Prince has made a request for a potion requiring Mandrake root, and I could always use a supply for class. When can I pick them up?"

"By the end of the week, if you like," the Herbology professor agreed.

"Where's Albus tonight?" Professor Bagshot asked as she met the others at the door.

Slughorn huffed irritably. "He locked himself in the lab right after classes and hasn't come out since. Skipped dinner. Said he had an idea that needed to be investigated. Blast, I wish I knew what he was doing. I might be able to help, but he says that he has to "go it alone", whatever that means." He waved his hand in the air as if to shoo away flies. "And, I'd love to know where he goes when he leaves the castle. He always comes back so late, and then spends even more time either in the lab or in the Restricted Section of the library. It's getting worse," Slughorn complained.

Elizabett remembered the last time she had seen Albus. It had been last Saturday at the University of Edinburgh. Felix Mendelssohn's String Quartet No. Six was the feature piece, and Elizabett had been surprised to find him there. He was usually with his "friend" on Saturdays, but apparently she had given him the idea. He had never considered attending a Muggle production before but was always open to new experiences. He hoped that she didn't mind his intrusion. It was obvious by his attire that he didn't venture into the Muggle world often, and Elizabett tried to discretely point out that the bright yellow shirt and short, black trousers drew far too much negative attention. Pulling him into a secluded alcove, she suggested that he Transfigure the trousers to full length and change the colour of the shirt…maybe to a simple white. The string tie that he wore was changed to a classic, black, bow tie, and she folded his cloak over his left arm. Gently removing the braided string from his beard, she stood back to examine the transformation. _Now, he could pass for a Muggle professor, _she smiled satisfactorily.

Moving to the concert hall, they had found seats somewhere in the middle of the audience, and the two had enjoyed a lovely evening of classical music. Afterwards, they took a short stroll along Nicholson Square and stopped for a cup of tea at a local café before Apparating back to the boundary gate.

The walk back to the school had been pleasant, and although still hesitant on details, Albus spoke freely about his work both in class and in the lab. His friend, Nicholas, was an alchemist who was assisting him with his hobby. Curiosity had led him to try to find as many uses for a particular ingredient, that he would never name, and he was up to five. It was like a puzzle to him, and Elizabett could see the excited glint in his eyes whenever he spoke of it. She never pressed him for details but would occasionally make a comment or off-handed suggestion.

At the junction of corridors that led to their respective chambers, Albus smiled genially and gave a short, elegant bow as he said "good night". Elizabett smiled in return and could feel her cheeks heat, her heart starting to pound. Bidding her colleague "good night", she turned and made her way to her room. That night, her dreams had been short and incomplete. First, she was with Thomas at Castlewood Manor. He was playfully chasing her with a handful of frogs by the pond. Then, she was with Albus, drinking hot cocoa on a blanket under the ancient willow by Black Lake. Elizabett's cheeks involuntarily flushed.

"Are you all right, dear?" Professor Bagshot noticed. "Your mind seems to be elsewhere."

Elizabett twitched a shy smile. "I was just thinking," she said quietly as they reached the edge of the forest.

~~~***~~~

Albus sat in a far corner of the senior potions lab flipping through the vast number of alchemy books that lay before him, absently scribbling notes on the sheet of parchment precariously balanced on the counter top. His last meeting with Nicholas had been interesting. He had finished one round of experiments based in a common theory, and they had begun to toy with another hypothesis. Albus loved the mind play and the mental stimulation that Nicholas encouraged. Nicholas' wife would come into the library periodically and would chuckle at the two men as they bantered ideas about. They were so animate in their conversations. By the time Albus left, he had decided on a new direction, one that made him smile slightly as it had been inspired by Elizabett when she had injured her knee last month. He snapped a dusty, leather-bound tome closed and pushed it aside. He had managed to keep his distance from her since the night of the storm. She had looked so beautiful, even drenched, and making her happy had given him immense pleasure. The connection she had made with him through his hand had been unsettling, but at the same time, it warmed him, and he didn't know why. Come the end of the evening, he couldn't resist himself, and even though he knew that she was spoken for, he felt drawn to kiss her "good night", even if it was just a peck on the cheek.

Albus sighed and leaned back on the stool. Horace had been furious with him for spending time with her and hadn't spoken to him for two days. Albus' lips twitched upward slightly, the quietest two days he'd had in a while. He had even taken a solitary stroll to the Astronomy Tower on the night of Valentine's to do some stargazing.

From that night forward, Albus had managed to avoid close contact with Elizabett, only politely acknowledging her at meals or in the hallway as they passed. She appeared disappointed and had asked if everything was all right. He courteously explained that he had been busy, but when he overheard her tell Bathilda about the upcoming concert, he couldn't resist the opportunity. No one would see them. No one would know. It would be a perfect opportunity to spend a little time with her…alone.

Cancelling his evening with Nicholas, he had Apparated to a small square outside Alison House, which held the university's music department, and waited just inside the doorway for Elizabett to arrive. When he saw her enter, he made his way along the wall to a bulletin board, which displayed news items and upcoming events. Pretending to peruse the notices, he played innocent when she saw him there. His choice of Muggle clothing had not been the best, and she had been so sweet in helping correct his attire… and the way she had removed the string from his beard…she had been so gentle, her touch so delicate. He did not regret his decision.

Allowing her to choose their seats, he followed her to the middle of the audience. Sitting by her side, he could feel her leg occasionally brush against his, and it stirred him in a way that he hadn't felt in…he didn't know how long. After the concert, they had strolled to a small coffee shop and chatted over a cup of tea. He felt very comfortable in her presence. The walk up from Hogsmeade to the school had lulled him into a deeper sense of ease that he knew had been absent from his life. Opening himself to her, he talked about Nicholas and some of his research, things he hadn't done with anyone else, and at the junction of the corridors between the wizards' and witches' chambers, he fought himself, wanting to kiss her "good night". He knew that she belonged to someone else. Another man courted her, and he had no right to infringe on that, still, his attraction to Elizabett, however wrong it was, felt so very right.

It was late in the afternoon, right after last class, when Horace had nudged up to Albus in the hallway and suggested that they go to the forest that evening to watch the Bowtrickles come out of hibernation. Albus had considered it but declined, gathering his work and locking himself in the lab, claiming he had a new idea needing to be examined. However, it was the thought of seeing Elizabett again that drew him there. He didn't trust his reactions around her…not with so many others present, especially students. So, as the others anxiously experienced the forest coming to life, he sat, alone, in the dark, dingy dungeon lab, trying very hard to focus on the work that lay before him.

~~~***~~~

"You missed quite a sight last evening," Bathilda commented to Albus at breakfast the next morning. "Was your work really that important that you missed the Bowtrickles reawakening?"

He looked up to steadily gaze at his old neighbour. "I've seen it before," he replied evenly.

"True," she answered with an indifferent nod, "but Elizabett was there." She gave him a sideways glance to gage his response. For anyone else watching, they would not have noticed, but for someone who had known Albus for as long as she had, Bathilda saw the minute facial twitch that gave him away. "She's such a lovely young woman," she continued shrewdly. "Intelligent. Charming. A certain worldly innocence about her."

Albus snorted slightly as he set his tea down. "Worldly innocence? An oxymoron if there ever was."

"Well," Bathilda began, "she's been all over Europe studying Muggles and comparing us to them. She's cautious; yet, she retains a wide-eyed innocence of believing that anything is possible. I find it refreshing. She has such an open mind." Bathilda stirred a spoonful of brown sugar into her porridge.

Albus gave some thought to what was said, and jumped slightly when a hand was gently placed on his shoulder.

"Good morning, Albus," Elizabett greeted with a stunning smile as she brushed past him to take her seat. "We missed you last night." She paused to measure her next words. "Horace was in such a foul mood that you had locked yourself in the lab again. He just couldn't let it go," she teased, a mischievous twinkle glittering in her eye.

Bathilda nearly spat her porridge across the table at Elizabett's comment, struggling not to laugh out loud. She and Elizabett had spoken of Horace's protectiveness of Albus, and Bathilda had given her opinion quite clearly. Elizabett had chosen to mind her own business, but this was too much to pass up. She watched Albus' reaction and began to regret her decision. His face clouded over, and his jaw seemed to set. He stared at his plate, and finally pushed it away.

"Albus, I'm sorry," Elizabett quietly apologized as he abruptly rose. He turned to head down the stairs at the back of the High Table, and Elizabett made to follow. Instead of turning left to exit the Great Hall, he went straight and through a door that she hadn't been through before. "Albus," she called, catching up and reaching for his sleeve. "I am truly sorry. That was inconsiderate of me, and none of my concern. Please forgive me," she pleaded.

When the door closed, he turned to face her and took a pace closer. She stiffened, not knowing what to expect but not retreating. With deep blue eyes boring into pale, he steadily began, "Horace makes more of our…relationship…than there actually is. He has hopes and expectations that I have allowed him to anticipate but have no intention of carrying through on. He needs to be placated in order for me to continue to use the lab and his resources, but I'm growing tired of this ruse." He shook his head. "Has he ever approached you?"

"About what?" Elizabett asked in concern. Albus peered down his nose, giving her a knowing look. She bit her lower lip in a telltale sign, and Albus rolled his eyes with a sigh. She reached for his sleeve again, gently running her fingers down the fabric. "He's protective…and jealous. Apparently, he's seen how we are together, and he's warned me to stay away."

Albus gritted his teeth. "When?"

"Months ago," Elizabett replied. "As we were going home for the holidays. It's not important."

"Yes…it is." Albus inhaled slowly. "Be careful. I don't trust him."

As they stood in silence, Elizabett reached out, her right fingers lightly brushing the back of his left hand. He turned his palm up, and allowed her fingers to caress across the lines.

"Pain," she whispered closing her eyes. "You want something that you don't think you can have. It's in your heart." She opened her eyes and looked up at the man before her as he slowly withdrew his hand. "Oh, Albus. Don't be afraid to follow your heart. The pain that doesn't kill us can only make us stronger."

His lips twitched upward sadly as he fought the urge to run the back of his fingers across her cheek. "I can't," he whispered.


	11. 11 Controversy and Confrontation

**11 – Controversy and Confrontation **

The class was animated and noisy. Small groups were clustered throughout the room discussing a variety of topics that they found in the Muggle _London Times_. Elizabett had managed to bring several current issues to class, and the students scoffed at the static pictures and dull print. She clapped her hands together for their attention and gathered the class back to their places.

"All right, who can tell me what's been happening in Muggle Europe this past month?" Elizabett stimulated her sixth year Ravenclaw and Slytherin class.

Several hands eagerly shot into the air. It had been a month of shocking upheaval, and even the British Ministry of Magic had issued warnings to the population.

"Mr. Black," Elizabett pointed.

"Germany annexed Austria. Austria is now considered a province of Germany," Orion Black proudly announced. "The Germany leader, Hitler, wants to create an empire of all Germany-speaking countries. He wants to keep his people together."

"According to the paper, it was a non-violent take-over of the country, but I have my doubts," Damon Belby added sceptically. "Who'd let themselves be taken-over without a fight? I have a feeling things will escalate before long. Not everyone is going to allow themselves to be overrun."

"You're both right. Germany did take over Austria, by force, but apparently without bloodshed," she directed toward the class. "Although there were clashes, the newspaper says that the violence was limited. Anything else?"

"Italian and German leaders are joining forces."

"Spain's civil war is still going on."

"China has rejected German assistance in their fight against Japan."

"The Polish are worried that they're next."

"Very good. Now, my question to you is: does all this unrest in Muggle Europe affect the Wizard world?" Elizabett skilfully stimulated their thinking.

"It has to," Gemma Clearwater stated. "No one, Muggle or Wizard, wants to be pushed around. Historically, it's been shown that whatever major event happens in the Muggle world it tends to ripple across to our lives."

"I agree," Jeremy Smith added. "My Dad works in the International Travel department at the Ministry, and he says that people are worried. There aren't as many planning trips, and the reservations of international Portkeys are on the decline. No one wants to travel abroad. They're afraid."

The whispers rose, and Elkin Avery loudly exclaimed, "What does that have to do with anything? We're Wizards. We've got more power than Muggles. If they have any affect of us it would be minor. We could swat them down like flies; we've done it in the past, and they'd never know what hit them. Only the weak would be afraid of going to Europe. The Muggle unrest can't hurt us."

Several Slytherins nodded boldly in agreement.

"On the contrary," Elizabett retained control. "Muggle weapons have improved and can most certainly injure or even kill Wizards. Even the strongest Protective Shield can't stop the force of some of the artillery that they've created. Caution would be wise to anyone travelling abroad. Also, when there's strife in the Muggle world, such as there is at the moment, it affects the Wizard economy in that, for example, we are hesitant to spend money to travel, as shown by the decline in Portkey reservation," she pointed toward Jeremy. "And, the price of items coming from the continent could go up, thus leaving us to pay the increase."

Many shook their heads in both disbelief and realization, and they began to squabble amongst themselves.

"My Dad gets this Muggle newspaper, and I read that this guy, Hitler, wants a pure race. It sounds a lot like what Grindelwald wants," Gemma voiced fearfully over the din.

"Sounds like he's got the right idea," Avery boasted to the encouragement of his housemates. "Keep things pure, and you're strong. The minute you add contaminants you weaken the whole population. You have to eliminate the impurities."

Objections and voices rose, and Elizabett could see the tempers flare. She needed to quell the fire and bring the class back on topic before it got out of control.

"Everyone is entitled to his or her opinion as long as that opinion is voiced respectively and is not forced onto anyone else, _and_ as long as that opinion is not transferred into action. Certainly, not in my class," Elizabett firmly declared. "The unrest in Europe will be felt all over the world. We, as Wizards, cannot expect to avoid the repercussions of this either. Like it or not, our lives are in intertwined with the Muggles. I want you to write a two-foot essay illustrating the connection. Use examples and comparisons. Look into the past as well as observing the present. I see you on Thursday. I want it by then. Understood?"

The class nodded, and a multitude of side conversations emerged as the bell rang. Elizabett had a feeling that she would hear from Professor Babbling again about how the students talked through her class about the Muggle Studies topics. Elizabett sighed. It wasn't her intent to stir things up, but it did please her that the students carried the topics into their lives outside of class.

~~~***~~~

Giving the password to the stone gargoyle at the base of the narrow staircase, Elizabett climbed the rotating steps that led to the Headmaster's office. She inhaled deeply as she reached the top. The Headmaster had sent word that he wanted to speak with her, and she was concerned. Pausing at the heavy, wooden door, she raised her right hand to knock, but the door swung open in expectation of company.

"Professor Castlewood, do come in," Armando Dippet cordially invited from behind the massive, oak desk as the door to his office closed behind her. "May I offer you some tea?" He drew his wand and directed it toward the teapot on the low table by the fireplace in the sitting area across the room. Coming around the desk, he ran his hands over his burgundy and grey robe, smoothing out the crumpled spots from where he had been sitting. His small cap had been removed showing the balding patch on the back of his greying head.

Elizabett entered the room cautiously and headed right, toward the sturdy chintz chairs on either side of the teapot. She was curious as to why she had been summoned and feared that Professor Babbling had complained once again.

The Headmaster offered her a seat and took his place to the left of the hearth, leaning to serve the drink. Handing a cup to Elizabett as she sat opposite him, he smiled genially, then eased back into the cushion.

"You appear uncomfortable. Is everything alright?" he asked, casually placing his chin onto the hand of his bent right arm.

"I may ask the same," Elizabett smiled nervously. "Since I arrived at the school, we've only officially met once to see how the program was progressing and have only spoken in passing either at staff meetings or occasionally at dinner. Have I done something wrong?"

The Headmaster shook his head and shrugged. "Well, Professor Babbling has spoken to me…again."

Elizabett sighed. "I am sorry, but I can't help…"

Armando smiled kindly and held up his hand to stop her. "For someone who has never taught before, you seem to have a wonderful command over your students. They are involved and, for the most part, eager to learn. I believe that it's because they're permitted to express themselves in a way that has been restricted in the past. A new method that has its advantages. I do not fault you that they are integrating the topics into their lives. I commend you. After all, isn't that what teaching is all about?" he smiled, then fixed his grey eyes onto her. "However, lately, I must question a topic that has risen in your senior classes. The comparison between Grindelwald and this Muggle…umm, Hitler seems to have caused quite a stir."

The Headmaster was right. There had been at least one dual caused by the clash of beliefs, and numerous arguments in the hallways. Elizabett had addressed the issue in class and was able to dispel some of the tension, but not all. There were some, especially from her former circle, who had very distinct ideas on how the Wizard world should be run.

"I do apologize. The original topic was the recent events in Muggle Europe and how Muggles events eventually affect Wizards…that we are not completely disconnected from what happens. They've been examining the _London Times_ and have come up with some wonderfully supported observations. I had them write essays on it," Elizabett explained.

Armando sat straighter in his seat, his interest peaked. "Really? I'd like to read some, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all," Elizabett could feel her chest swell, and her tension ease. She had been very proud of the students, even those who had taken a contrary position. They had upheld their arguments well.

"The Ministry has asked that I make a report on your progress, and how the students are responding to the subject," Armando continued. "They have also requested that you make a similar report to be presented to the Educational Council and the Board of Governors at the end of Easter Break. I hope you will be available. This is an excellent opportunity."

Elizabett's cheeks flushed with anxiety, and the Headmaster sensed her discomfort. Leaning forward, he tapped her arm fatherly. "Don't worry, my dear. I have every confidence in you. You've made it this far."

For the next half hour, Elizabett and the Headmaster discussed what the Ministry and Governors were expecting to find, and arranged a date when Elizabett could present her report to those involved. The dinner bell rang as they finished, and Elizabett was dismissed. Her head was reeling as she made her way to the Great Hall. This was exciting…and a bit frightening.

~~~***~~~

Every spare moment in the following two weeks was spent going over past lesson plans, putting together a cohesive presentation of what each level had accomplished thus far, and what they were presently working on. It had become all-consuming, but Elizabett didn't mind. If all went well, this would definitely be a career booster. Even when she had met Thomas in Hogsmeade on the last school outing before the holiday, the conversation had revolved around her work. He was excited for her, and it seemed that much of the tension they had felt in recent months had dissipated. The ease of their old friendship appeared to have returned. He and Elizabett had joined Professors Merrythought and Bagshot at the Simmering Cauldron for lunch, and the group chatted happily. During the afternoon, Thomas joined Elizabett as she dutifully kept an eye on certain couples that were looking for a romantic place to disappear. Thomas laughed and joked that they had the right idea, but made no overt amorous advances. Elizabett smiled. _This_ was the Thomas she loved. Before he left, late in the afternoon, they made plans to meet during her holiday. Thomas had to work, but Elizabett suggested a break from their routine trips to Collingwoods, maybe a visit to Diagon Alley, or a quick trip to Grandmaman Lestrange's in the south of France, she hinted. Thomas simply smiled and kissed her affectionately on the forehead before he said, "Maybe", and Apparated away.

~~~***~~~

A young lad raced down the marble staircase from the seventh floor corridor, taking two at a time and nearly tumbling with his speed. The Headmaster had been insistent. The message was to be delivered to Professor Castlewood immediately. The boy had been on his way to Divination class when the Headmaster had stopped him at the base of the ladder. He had anxiously agreed deliver the note…especially if it meant not having to sit through another lecture on tealeaves. By the time the boy reached the first floor Muggles Studies classroom, he was out of breath and puffing. Taking a moment before knocking on the simple wooden door, he bent in half, the note still clutched tightly in his hand. Tapping on the wooden frame, he stood straight and smoothed his hair before handing the crumpled parchment to the young teacher as she commanded the door to open. The boy tipped his head and turned, leisurely strolling back in the direction of his class. Professor Castlewood flattened the missive, brows furrowing, her heart beginning to race as she read.

_I've just received word. The meeting at the Ministry has been changed. They are expecting you this afternoon at two o'clock, Level Seven. I will find a replacement for your remaining classes. Good luck and have a wonderful holiday. _

_Dippet_

Elizabett's cheeks flushed. Two o'clock? She looked at the clock on the wall. It was eleven thirty. She had this class to finish. That wouldn't leave her much time to run upstairs to her quarters to change and pack, then quickly walk into Hogsmeade to Floo to the Ministry. Students were heading home tomorrow for Easter Break. The meeting was supposed to be at the end of the holiday. Her mind was spinning as she returned to students.

~~~***~~~

The Ministry Atrium was quiet in the middle of the afternoon. Somehow, Elizabett had made it with time to spare. She hadn't been able to say "good bye" to anyone but had left a note for Bathilda, hoping that she would relay her message. Riding the lift to Level Seven, Elizabett mentally reviewed her notes and took slow breaths in an attempt to calm her rapidly fraying nerves. Entering the dark-paneled boardroom, her stomach lurched as those in attendance turned to watch her intently. Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she smiled at the group of witches and wizards, and took the offered spot on the left hand side of the long, mahogany table. When the Director of the Educational Council and the Chairman of the Board of Governors arrived, the meeting began.

Elizabett efficiently presented her report, handed out examples of the students' work, and answered all questions in a skilled and professional manner. Somehow, she had managed to keep the butterflies from her voice, sounding like the expert that she had become. Much to her relief, the Ministry was still on her side, clearly seeing the importance for such a course in such difficult times and firmly supporting her. However, some of the Governors made it clear that they were displeased with a few of the topics that had been raised in class. The children didn't need to know this information. What good would come of it? Apparently, some children had written home in earnest, and it was strongly suggested that she avoid certain political issues. Elizabett explained that she had tried, but those issues were the most prevalent at the moment, and when students brought them forward, she addressed them, details depended on the topic, and if it was relevant to the class. It was obvious that not all of the Governors were satisfied with her answer, but most seemed to accept it.

When the meeting was over, Elizabett lingered for a few moments to gather her work, speaking briefly with the occasional member who wished to make informal comments or ask further questions. Arcturus Black was the last to corner her by the door. His demeanour was imposing, almost threatening. She had never liked the man, and her father had always said that he had a nasty temper. Arcturus expressed his utmost disappointment in her. She was an embarrassment to the circle, but what should he really have expected? After all, she "had been sorted into Hufflepuff" he had snorted derisively.

By the time everyone left, Elizabett's heart was pounding nervously. It was nearly five o'clock, and she decided to find comfort in a familiar, friendly face. She smiled at the thought of surprising Thomas by taking him to dinner.

Riding the lift to Level Four, Elizabett grinned as she shouldered past those trying to leave. The office was nearly empty, but she could her voices coming from the area that housed Thomas' desk. Bouncing around the corner, the smile dropped from her face at the sight of the man she loved nuzzling the neck of a lanky, straw-haired witch who was bent backward over his desk. He was leaning over her, his right hand firmly entwined in her long, yellow hair, his left slipping into her robe, cupping a breast. Elizabett stared, dumfounded, her brain not quite able to process what her eyes were telling her. It was the witch who noticed Elizabett first, clearing her throat with an embarrassed smile, and untangling herself from Thomas' grasped.

"Oops," she giggled, "Thought everyone had left for the night," she said as she straightened her robe.

Thomas spun to face a pale-faced Elizabett. "Umm, Lizzie," he stuttered, looking back and forth between the two women. "Um, Liz, this is Kalina. She, um, works here. Liz is an old friend," he directed toward the oblivious blond. "We were, um, just…" he began to explain to his shocked girlfriend.

Elizabett held her hand up to stop him, swallowing hard, and steadying her nerves. "The meeting got switched to today. I was going to invite you to dinner," Elizabett could barely croak.

"Dinner?" Kalina beamed, "That's where we were heading, wasn't it, Tommy? He's such a darling," she directed toward Elizabett. "We try something new every time. Would you care to join us?" She batted her eyes up at the flustered man.

"Every time?" Elizabett choked. "How long have you two been together?" she ignored Thomas who was trying to stop the other woman from answering.

"Oh, not long," Kalina responded proudly, clinging to Thomas' arm. "Right after Valentines. We met when I got transferred from another department." She beamed up at the man who looked like he would rather be part of the woodwork. "It was love at first sight," she sighed.

"Really," Elizabett forced a response. "I think I'll pass on dinner. I'm going to head home," she pointedly aimed at her boyfriend. "I've had enough of today."

"Oh, too bad," Kalina pouted. "I would have loved to hear some stories about what Tommy was like as a little boy."

"Maybe another time." Elizabett backed out of the cubicle, her head beginning to swim.

"Lizzie, wait," Thomas called after her. "We need to talk," he whispered.

"You think?" Elizabett struggled for control. "I'm going home. You choose what you want to do." With that, Elizabett turned and strode back to the elevator as Kalina emerged from the cubicle smiling and waving "good bye", looping her arm through Thomas'.

~~~***~~~

"Valentines?" Elizabett yelled. "Valentines? That was February. This is April. It's not like we never see each other, never communicate. What were you thinking? Gods, Thomas, what else have you kept from me? Is she giving you what I wouldn't? Is that it? From what I saw, she probably is? Merlin's beard! Is that what this is about? How could you? Why couldn't you let me know?" Elizabett ranted in the sitting room of her parents' house, her parents having excused themselves when Thomas arrived about fifteen minutes after their daughter. Elizabett had said little upon her arrival, but both knew that something disturbing had happened. They had tactfully placed a Silencing Charm on the room to give them privacy.

"I didn't mean for it to happen. She was there, always around. She's really nice…and funny." Elizabett's brows shot up. "I mean, geez, Lizzie, we hardly ever see each other. Once a month. I love the time we spend, but…" He flopped into one of the large arm chairs near the bookcase, burying his face in his hands. "I didn't mean for it to happen."

"But, it did, and it hurts. You know, it's not so much that it happened, but that it's _been_ happening, you've had the opportunity to tell me, and didn't. We're friends Thomas, above anything else, and you deceived me. You lied." Elizabett lowered herself onto the sofa across from him. "What is it you want, Thomas? Because, you can't have both of us."

"I love you, Lizzie, but you're not willing to take things to the next step. I have needs. Don't you feel the same way? Don't you love me?" Thomas beseeched.

"Don't spin this around on me. I haven't been unfaithful." Elizabett paused for a moment, and they gazed at each other sadly. "I do love you, Thomas," she said quietly. "But, maybe you're right. I can't make that move, and I'm not sure why. There just seems to be something missing. I can't explain it. But, if you found someone else so quickly, maybe it wasn't meant to be." The tears began to roll down her cheek, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

"I'm so sorry, Lizzie. I hate that I've hurt you. You're my best friend," Thomas choked as he leaned forward onto his knees, his head in his hands. When he looked up, tears brimmed on his lashes, and his chin quivered slightly. "I'm so sorry," he whispered again.

Thomas and Elizabett talked well into the night. Dinner was skipped, and her parents left them alone. When Thomas finally left, it was with a heavy heart. Elizabett headed to bed, but couldn't sleep. Their friendship had somehow survived, but Elizabett felt ill and betrayed. She questioned herself. She knew she loved Thomas. She always had, and she always would. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she give him what he needed? What did she think was missing in their relationship? She tossed and turned until the pink rays of first light began to peak over the horizon. Solemnly greeting her parents at breakfast, she made a decision. She needed a change. Packing her bags, she headed for a place where she knew she could clear her head.


	12. 12 A Place To Think

**12 – A Place to Think**

The azure waves lapped gently against the narrow shore while the post-dawn sun glistened off the calm water. Grandmaman Lestrange was an early riser and had the kettle boiling on the hearth by the time Elizabett rose. Taking a cup of strong tea to the edge of the bank that overlooked the sea; she transfigured a rock into a comfortable, lounge chair and rested, watching the gulls dive into the waves. Elizabett had spent the first few days of her arrival in Paris, vanishing in the noise and chaos of the Champs des Elysees, and exploring her favourite pieces at the Louvre. She needed to be lost in the crowd. It had it's own unique solitude that helped clear her mind. But, she could never stay in Paris long. It was far too busy for such a quiet, English rose. She preferred the tranquility of the south of France.

Juan Les Pins was half way between Cannes and Nice, in the Cote D'Azure region of Les Alpes-Maritimes. It had always been a small fishing village, but in recent years, had begun to grow as its beauty was recognized, and the popularity of the tourist town of Cannes began to overflow. Grandmaman's cottage, although set just off a bluff that overlooked the sea, was well hidden from Muggle eyes, centuries on ancient spells and old magic protecting it.

From her perch on the bank, Elizabett could look to the right and see the deep blue expanse of the Mediterranean Sea. If she turned her head to the left, she had a wonderful view of the calm inlet waters of the Liguarian Sea. The Liguarian Sea also bordered Italy, and on a clear day, ships could be seen coming and going from the busy port of Genoa. They were that close.

Breathing in the refreshing, salt air, she smiled peacefully. Grandmaman Lestrange had expected her. She had seen it in her tealeaves: a troubled, young woman who would appear at her door asking for sanctuary. Of course, she would grant it…with a bit of free advice thrown in for good measure. Age had its privileges.

Elizabett remembered back in January when her grandmother had seized her palm and told her about a man who held her heart. At first, she hadn't completely understood the reading, thinking that the old woman had gotten confused, but now she was beginning to see, and the thought stirred her in a way that she had never felt before. Although her grandmother didn't lecture, she was forthright in her comments regarding the men in Elizabett's life. There was little she didn't know or didn't suspect. Taking a sip of the cooling liquid in her cup, Elizabett turned her palm up to examine it. Indeed, the fate line was pronounce and clear, running straight through the centre of her palm, indicating that she had always known her purpose in life. It transected the head line and embedded itself into the heart line, meaning that although her thoughts would guide her, Elizabett was to follow her heart rather than doing the logical or expected thing. The heart line was smooth at the beginning, small islands showing about a third of the way through, then one stood out from the others, representing her most recent trauma – losing Thomas. However, the continuation after that was reasonably even, a few bumps here and there, but as Grandmaman had said, "What's life without a few troubles? That's what makes us strong."

Elizabett had been invited to stay for as long as she wished, but was advised to let go of the past and embrace the future. There was much more in store for her, her grandmother had grinned slyly. Thomas would always remain a friend and a part of her life, she had reassured, but there was something better, more suited to her, out there. Elizabett had taken her grandmother's words to heart, and had managed to forgive Thomas. In her mind, she wished him well, and hoped that he would find peace and fulfilment in a loving relationship. Their courtship had merely been an unsuccessful experiment. Time would heal the wound, and she could already feel the weight lift from her heart.

"Good morning, Cousin," a strong male voice sounded from the field behind her. "Grandmaman said we'd find you here." Two tall men strode in her direction, one with dark features: black eyes and hair, tanned skin, the other man, fair-haired and paler. "It's a beautiful morning," the dark-haired man continued.

"Yes, it is," Elizabett answered, shifting in her seat and squinting in the sunlight to face the approaching men. Rising to greet them, she cordially reached out her hand. "It's good to see you again, Axius. Are you just visiting or are you staying?" She smiled at her cousin.

"Just visiting," Axius Lestrange replied with a friendly smile. "With tensions so close, I like to keep an eye on Grandmaman. How are things in England? I see Evan Rosier on occasion. He says that much of the old circle has broken apart. Is this true?"

Elizabett nodded warily. "Some have developed extreme beliefs based in ancient history. They're clinging to what is no more. Others are trying to move forward, to maintain peace of mind in an increasingly restless world."

"And, where do you fall?" he asked curiously. "I heard about you and the British Ministry of Magic. Impressive, but surprising."

"Not so surprising. Understanding is the key to knowledge…and power." She watched Axius' friend who stood quietly by his side.

"Know your enemy." Axius' lips turned up in a twisted smile, a knowing glint in his eyes. Nodding to Elizabett and tipping his head toward his friend, he said, "My cousin will keep you company. I'll be back in a minute." Without an introduction, Axius turned and left his companion with Elizabett while he made his way back to the small cottage.

Eyeing the man with mistrust, Elizabett transfigured another rock into a chair and motioned for him to sit. The man was tall and at least ten years older than Axius, twenty years older than her. They sat silently staring out at the water. She refused to speak first.

"It's been a while," the fair-haired man finally began in a quiet tone, his gaze resting on the rippling waves. "I heard you were in France and couldn't resist an opportunity to see you."

"Maybe you should have resisted a little harder." Elizabett's countenance was guarded. "How do you know Axius?"

"A friend," the man replied casually, "He's well connected in the right circles, knows many people, a good ally to have. You remember what that's like, don't you?" He glanced over his shoulder with a slight twitch of his lips.

"I remember." Elizabett stared stonily out at the waves, a memory that she regretted but was bound to.

They sat in silence again, the man proudly tipping his face to the sun, allowing the warm rays to touch his pale skin. He began to hum lightly, a song she recognized from long ago, _Edelweiss, _and her stomach churned. A perverse smile played on his lips as the melody unfolded.

"So," he began conversationally when he was done, "how did you like my little display in Austria in March? I thought of you while it was happening." The man kept his eyes closed as he spoke.

"And why would you think of me?" Elizabett turned her head to face him.

"Oh," he sighed knowingly, "I know your weakness. It was just a little gift from me to you. A little mercy for the poor, unfortunate Muggles."

"I thought you may have had a hand in that, but it seemed mild for your standard. No blood." Elizabett flexed her jaw. "How did you manage this?"

"Oh, please," he spouted arrogantly, a slight wave of his hand as he spoke, "A little _Imperius_ here, a bit of _Confundus_ there, and the Muggles battle each other. Rather ingenious when you think about it. If they eliminate themselves, then they've done the job for me," he chuckled to himself barely lifting his head from the backrest of the chair. "Plan the seed, and watch it grow. It's taking more time than I anticipated, but it's such fun to watch," he chuckled again.

Elizabett felt the bile rise in her throat. "You do realize that it will get worse."

"Of course," he laughed out loud. "And more will join the fray. There is so much mistrust. It will spread around the world. Could you imagine? And, I started it." He paused to entertain the thought.

"Why are you telling me this?" Elizabett closed her eyes in exasperation, leaning back into the chair.

"Because, I can." A wicked smile grew on his lips. "And, you can't tell a soul. What was it you once told me? Hmm, "Castlewoods are excellent Secret Keepers". You're bound to keep my secret. I'm not sorry I tricked you into that. Everyone needs someone to confide in on occasion, but you disappeared from me for a while. I've missed you. By the way, how is my aunt? I understand you work with her."

"She's fine. Did you ever consider that I left for a reason?" Elizabett stated firmly, drawing the topic away from her friend. "I may hold your secret, but you also hold mine, and one is dependant on the other. If one is broken, so is the other."

"You are shrewd." He smiled, wagging a finger at her. "Probably why I like you so much. Have your life." He waved off. "I'll not begrudge you that. I just like talking with you."

Elizabett stared at the sea feeling completely ill. How had she let this man deceive her?

"Gellert," Axius called as he strode back from the cottage. "I've got something for you." He held up a familiar little vial that Grandmaman used to bottle her potions. "My grandmother makes the best Veritaserum. She used to use it on us kids when she thought we were lying about something. Very effective. Told her I needed it for my youngest son," he grinned.

Elizabett's eyes narrowed at her cousin as she shook her head slowly. She hated the thought of her grandmother being used in this fight. Gellert Grindelwald rose from his seat and tipped his head toward Elizabett. "It was very nice to have met you. I do hope we meet again."

Elizabett tipped her head in acknowledgement but made no reply.

"Good to see you again, Cousin." Axius waved as the men headed down the hill.

Elizabett turned to gaze at the sea once again, her stomach in knots. Gellert was one person she could live without ever seeing again.


	13. 13 Stargazing

**13 – Stargazing**

The sky was clear, and the half moon shone brightly but not so much that it would mute the brilliance of the stars. It was very late, and Albus couldn't sleep. Horace had been a nuisance all during the holiday, to the point where Albus sought refuge at Nicholas' for a few days before heading east to pick up the rare ingredient for his ongoing experiment. He was lucky to have made friends over the years in Romania for dragon's blood was nearly impossible to get. He smiled to himself as he strolled along the path by Black Lake. The stone crushed under foot breaking the stillness of the night, so he moved to the soft grass and continued in silence. Pausing by the water's edge, he watched as the waves gently lapped against the shore. There was no breeze, but he pulled his light cloak around him to ward off the night's chill. School had been back for a week, and the teachers were beginning to organize themselves for the upcoming, end-of-year revisions. There had been a staff meeting just prior to classes returning, and young Miss Castlewood seemed more quiet than usual. He had overheard her tell Bathilda that she had gone to visit her grandmother and wondered whether her solemn mood was due to concern over the elderly woman's health. Albus stared up at the dark sky, sighed, and then moved on. It was good to be back.

Half way up the grassy slope, he startled as a prone figure in the middle of the lawn stirred. "Who's there?" he called softly, trying to adjust his eyes to the shadows.

The figure propped up onto elbows. "You first," was the quiet reply.

"Professor Dumbledore, and if you're a student, you are in a great deal of trouble," he sternly warned.

"Good thing I'm not a student then," the voice chuckled lightly.

"Elizabett?" Albus' surprise was hard to conceal. "What in Merlin's good graces are you doing out here at this hour? It's after midnight." He approached and gazed down at the young woman who was bundled in a cream coloured, cable-knit jumper and long, black skirt.

"It was such a beautiful night. The Eta Aquaridas are this month, and I was hoping to see some of it," she explained as she sat up.

"I didn't know you were so well versed in Astronomy," Albus sounded pleased as he stood beside her. "Or, are you making an educated excuse for being out so late?" She could almost see his grin through the tone in his voice.

"Me? Make excuses? I'll have you know that these meteor showers come from the Aquarius constellation, thus the name, and only happen during a very limited time. Any avid astronomer would try to see them. They're quite spectacular," she playfully tossed at him.

"So, no excuses then?" He chuckled.

"Fine. I couldn't sleep," she relented with a good-natured sigh as she lay back on the thick, woollen blanket, tucking her hands behind her head.

Albus watched her, an uncomfortable stir growing in his lower region. He turned to gaze up at the stars. "They are lovely tonight," he said, clearing his throat.

"Why are you out so late?" Elizabett questioned conversationally.

He dropped his head over his left shoulder to look down at her, his lips turning up in a tender smile. "Same reason."

Elizabett shifted to the right. "Come on then," she invited, patting the spot beside her. "I don't mind sharing."

Albus paused for a moment, then walk around the perimeter of the blanket and sat beside his young colleague. His knees were spread slightly and drawn to his chest, his arms encircled around them. His cloak was draped over his shoulders, but he sat on the hem. Silence wrapped around them as the darkness enveloped the night.

"So…" Albus finally broke the silence. "How was your holiday?"

Elizabett paused for a moment. "Fine," she finally uttered. "And yours?"

"Fine," he replied staring out at the stars shining off the water.

Silence again.

"I heard Horace say that you had gone away. Anywhere interesting?" Elizabett tried to make small talk.

"Not really. How is your grandmother? I heard you went to visit her," Albus inquired trying to fill in the gap.

"She's fine." Elizabett continued to stare up at the sky. "You're going to get a crick in your neck looking up like that," she advised as she watched him tilt his head back. "Come on." She patted the blanket again. "I won't bite."

He looked down at her, shifted his backside further down the blanket, and lay beside her, both on their backs staring up at the glittering constellations.

"You've been quiet since we've been back," Albus began again.

Elizabett's lips twitched upward. "Aren't I always quiet?" she asked lightly.

"Yes, but there seems to be something bothering you, something on your mind. Is everything alright?"

"Yes…and no," Elizabett whispered sadly.

Albus turned his head to look at her, waiting for her to continue.

She sighed. "Thomas has found someone else." She swallowed hard. "I was called to the Ministry at the last moment the day before the break. The meeting was supposed to be during the break, but the Board of Governors didn't want their holiday interrupted. After the meeting, I thought I'd surprise Thomas and popped into his office." Elizabett paused at the memory. "I'm the one who got the surprise. He was with one of the secretaries."

"I'm so sorry." Albus genuinely felt her pain.

"He even introduced me to her," Elizabett snorted, "as if I hadn't just caught them in an embrace. He told her that I was an old friend." Elizabett closed her eyes. "I guess in reality I am. I went home, and he showed up not too far behind, full of apologies. We had a row, but once I calmed down, we had a good, long talk." She paused again. "You know what?"

"What?" he replied, still looking at her.

"It's all right." Elizabett nodded her head slowly. "We'd…I'd… had some trouble getting past the fact that we had been friends most of our lives. I love Thomas, but…" She shook her head. "Not I_that/I_ way. We've always been close, and we'll always be close, but the intimacy of lovers could never be." She snorted lightly. "Maybe that was too much information for you." She grinned with embarrassment. "Anyway, even though I was hurt by his betrayal, it felt like a weight was lifted from my shoulders. Maybe it's bad to say, but once I thought of it, I was relieved and was actually happy for him."

"It obviously wasn't meant to be." Albus felt his heart pound in his chest.

"I guess not. I ended up going to France to visit my grandmother. She's an incredible person, and being by the water always helps clear my mind." She shook her head. "But, the political tension over there was too much, so I came home." She smiled at herself. "Funny. Home. I came here."

"Not so funny. I've often said the same thing. Hogwarts does feel like home." Albus rolled onto his back, and they lay quietly again. "Look!" His arm suddenly shot into the air, pointing to a cluster of lights streaking from right to left across the dark sky. "It's beginning."

"Make a wish," Elizabett ordered excitedly. There was silence for several minutes as they watched the meteors traverse the heavens, then she rolled onto her side toward her friend and propped her head onto her hand. "What did you wish for?" she asked with child-like curiosity.

"I can't tell you that." He grinned up at her. "If I do, it won't come true."

Elizabett rolled back onto her back. "Oh, I suppose you're right," she responded with a good-natured sigh, then grinned. "Fine then, I won't tell you mine."

Albus rolled onto his side to face her, but she continued to gaze straight up, an impish grin playing on her lips. It was an expression that struck Albus straight in the groin, and he shifted uncomfortably. The movement drew her attention, and she rolled to face him. Their eyes locked, and their breath grew short. Seconds passed and neither moved. Finally, Albus leaned forward and delicately brushed his lips across hers, barely touching, the feather-like movement setting every nerve in her body on fire. She caught her breath, and he pulled back to gaze into her eyes. It was her turn. This time, she leaned forward, her lips tenderly tasting his in a kiss that was so sweet, so full of emotion that he involuntarily trembled. She withdrew, hesitating, but he dismissed her insecurity by kissing her again, slowly, lovingly, with a simmering, growing passion that she had never felt before. Her tongue instinctively flicked out, running along his lower lip, and she could feel his heart race against her chest. Slowly, timidly, their hands reached for each other, hers working across his waist to his back, his running up her arm and around her sweater to hold her close. Minutes went by, and the kisses continued, unhurried and tender, sweet caresses that came from the heart. When they finally drew apart, Albus resumed his position on his back gazing up at the sky. He reached his right arm up, tucking Elizabett lovingly to his chest while she draped her right arm across his abdomen, both happy and content.

After a few moments, Elizabett could feel his body begin to shake slightly, and she raised her head to see a small smile peek out from his beard. He glanced over and responded to her furrowed brow by pulling her into an adoring hug.

"I guess wishes do come true," he whispered into her hair.


	14. 14 Jealousy

**14 - Jealousy**

Professor Slughorn purposefully strode from his office, up the staircase, and toward Gryffindor Tower. His little "meeting of the minds", as he called them, hadn't lasted as long as he had hoped. Many of the regulars begged off claiming they had to study, and only a few of the senior die-hards made an appearance, staying just long enough to remain in the Potions Master's good graces. This gave Horace an unexpected opportunity to surprise Albus and maybe convince the man to go for a walk. They had been cooped up in the castle far too long what with revisions and then the commencement of exams, the beginning of corrections, Albus' ongoing experiment, and his subsequent late nights researching in the library. Albus preferred to do the work alone, which left Horace to himself far too often. Slughorn frowned as he hoisted his weight up the last flight of stairs, beads of perspiration beginning to form on his brow. He'd forgotten how far it was from his quarters in the dungeons to Albus' chambers. Blast, why was Albus avoiding him? They needed to talk. Summer was coming, and it was time to make decisions and begin preparing. Puffing down the corridor to his friend's room, Horace stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. Raising his right hand, he knocked loudly and waited. There was no answer. Hmm, Albus had said that he'd be in his room tonight. He knocked again. Still no answer. Pausing for a moment, then making a bold decision, he gave the password and turned the handle to enter. Taking a step forward, he ran into the closed door with a thump. Puzzled, he stepped back and tried again. Again, the door remained sealed. With indignation brewing in the pit of his stomach, his cheeks flushed as he spun on his heel. He was locked out. Striding through the corridor and stomping his way down the stairs, he shouldered past students without seeing. Rounding a corner, he ran into young Miss McGonagall sending her stumbling backward into the wall. Snapping his head up, he glared at the flustered student.

"Are you all right, Sir?" she asked, straightening her robe and readjusting the book bag in her hand.

Horace glared at her for a moment then snarled, "Have you seen Professor Dumbledore?"

Minerva McGonagall nodded sharply, "I saw him head toward Black Lake about fifteen minutes ago. Is everything all right, Sir? You seem upset."

"Fine, fine." Horace waved her off when he realized how he must have appeared. He forced a false smile. "Just need to speak with him for a moment," he continued as he moved down the hall.

Watching the Potions Master stride away, Minerva was joined by Gemma Clearwater and Ignatius Prewett.

"What's with him?" Gemma asked curiously.

Minerva shrugged. "He wants to speak with Professor Dumbledore."

Ignatius snorted with a smile, and the two girls turned to him with puzzled looks. "Oh, please. You haven't noticed how he chases Dumbledore around? You can't find Dumbledore half the time without Slughorn tagging along behind."

"What are you implying?" Minerva sniffed. She rather liked the older professor and was a bit defensive for him.

"I'm not implying anything, just making an observation, but I've also noticed, especially in the last few months, that Dumbledore is almost avoiding him. I guess Sluggy's only noticing it now. A bit dense if you ask me," Ignatius finished with a shrug.

The students watched as the walrus-like professor disappeared down the last staircase, then they turned to resume their path to the library. The Transfiguration exam was tomorrow, and Minerva wanted to do some last minute studying of some of the more complicated procedures.

~~~***~~~

"I'm glad you were able to get away for a while," Elizabett purred as she snuggled into a bushy auburn beard, tenderly brushed her lips against Albus', while her hands gently clasped the front of his coffee-coloured robe.

With Elizabett's head tipped back and Albus' tipped forward, they stood nose-to-nose, Albus leaning to warmly return the gesture. "I needed a break," he smirked, the corners of his eyes crinkling merrily. "Besides, Horace has his little club tonight. No fear of him intruding."

Elizabett rolled her eyes with a grin remembering the last time she and Albus had snuck away. It had been agreed that their growing relationship would remain discrete, as they didn't want to be fodder for the gossip mill that the school could be. Secrets were difficult to keep here but not impossible, but somehow, Slughorn's bloodhound sense had sniffed them out in the far recesses of the Restricted Section of the library. He had not been pleased to find them together, but warily accepted the excuse that they had merely run into each other while doing individual research. Apparently, Albus and Horace had a nasty row later that night. Albus had stormed back to his quarters and immediately changed the password to his room. That was over a week ago. Now, it was the evening before an exam, Horace had a meeting with his club, and most students were otherwise occupied studying. Stepping out from behind the drooping willow, Elizabett ran her hand down Albus' sleeve and led him to the path by the lake. Releasing his arm, she took a step away to keep a modest distance.

"So, what plans do you have for the summer?" Elizabett asked curiously as they began their walk.

The gravel crunched underfoot as they slowly strolled the trail. Albus' hands were clasped behind his back as he moved, his head down, watching the path. "I have some work to do for the Ministry, and plan to go abroad for a bit. Armando has mentioned a young lad in an orphanage in London who has shown unusual magical power. He has asked that I investigate the situation and possibly offer the boy a place at Hogwarts."

"Really? That sounds wonderful." Elizabett grinned, looking over her left shoulder at her friend.

"Which part? That I'll be away or that Hogwarts is inviting a young orphan?" Albus teased.

"The boy, of course." She playfully batted his arm. "It's so generous."

"Hogwarts does have funding to make such offers on occasion. I'll investigate the boy's family history when I'm at the Ministry."

Their easy conversation continued until they reached the edge of the forest. Turning to climb the rocky trail that led from the Groundskeeper's hut back to the castle, they noticed Og, a distance away, emerging from the boundary line of trees. He didn't detect them as he headed for the Care of Magical Creatures compound where Professor Kettleburn waited anxiously by the fence. As Og approached the professor, he tipped the contents of a large sack into a trough-like bin.

"He really does enjoy his job, doesn't he?" Elizabett chuckled as she glanced over her shoulder to see Professor Kettleburn clap his hands excitedly and picked up the oddest-looking creature that she had ever seen.

Albus' lips twitched upward in agreement as he held his hand out to help Elizabett up the uneven slope. Holding on for an extra minute, Albus gave her fingers an affectionate squeeze before releasing them. Warmth flooded her and a light quiver rolled in her stomach. She never would have believed that she could feel this way. Those other women had been right after all.

"I hope I'll be able to see you this summer," Albus bravely stated as they continued on their way. "You said that you'd be visiting you're grandmother again, but would be home for most of the holiday. Would you permit me to call on you?"

Elizabett's cheeks grew warm, and the quiver increased. "Of course," she heard herself say. "I would like that very much."

Albus smiled a satisfied smile, and they walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence. When they reached the entrance of the courtyard, Albus tugged Elizabett into a small alcove, unseen by the few students that had finally emerged for an evening stroll. Running his hands down her sleeves, he affectionately caressed her arms.

"I am so looking forward to the summer." He gazed down at her, his cobalt eyes twinkling happily.

"As am I." Elizabett beamed back. "No looking over our shoulders to see who's watching."

Albus nodded as he tipped his head to meet hers. Their lips met in a tender kiss that stoked a fire in Elizabett's heart. Stepping forward to deepen it, she timidly wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close. Albus returned the favour and encompassed Elizabett's slight body with his six-foot frame. The top of her head only reached his shoulder, and she felt so small in his arms, but it felt so right, like it belonged, like they belonged. Their bodies just seemed to fit. As they broke the kiss, he held her close, bending to nuzzle his face in her soft hair, hiding the silly grin that he knew he wore. He couldn't remember ever being so happy, so at ease with someone. It felt so good.

Elizabett was the first to pull back, and she cupped Albus' chin with her right hand. Giving his lips an affectionate peck, she smiled and left him standing alone in the alcove. He would emerge in a moment, so it would not to appear that they had been out together. She had a merry lilt to her walk as he watched her leave, and the silly grin returned to his face.

~~~***~~~

"With her, were you?" Horace stood in the archway of the dungeon corridor that led from the Main Entrance. His arms were crossed, and he was fuming. "She said she had no intentions. Hufflepuff," he snorted, "but oh, so Slytherin. So, where were you?" Horace demanded, falling into step behind his friend as Albus ignored him, continuing to stride up the steps toward Gryffindor Tower. "I went to your room, but the password was changed. When did you do that? Am I no longer welcome? A little explanation would be in order. I think I deserve that." By now, Horace had caught up with Albus, and grabbed hold of his arm, spinning him around. "Well?"

Albus' face was stony, a storm brewing under the surface that he fought to control. "I will not have this conversation here," he replied firmly, glancing around the nearly empty corridor, and shaking off Horace's grip. He turned to resume the path to his chamber, while Horace trailed behind.

At the entrance of Albus' room, he silently gave the password and allowed the rotund Potions Master to follow him in. Once inside, Albus' fury broke forth.

"How dare you," he raged stepping toward the other man who retreated with surprise. "Since when do I have to explain myself to you? We are friends…colleagues, nothing more. I have the right to choose my companions without your interference."

"But I thought…" Horace sputtered weakly.

"You thought wrong." Albus' eyes pierced the man. "You have become an overbearing, possessive, bloody pain in my side. I know that you have confronted Elizabett and warned her off. What gives you that right?" he angrily waved his finger in the other man's face.

"Didn't work, did it?" Horace sniffed, finally beginning to regain composure.

"No, it didn't, because she had no intention of being anything but friendly. She demands nothing of me and accepts me for who I am. She's a sweet, gentle woman with a kind heart."

"And a wicked ability to curse away someone's voice," Horace muttered under his breath.

"Really?" Albus glared. "I would have done worse," he warned.

Horace raised his eyes to meet his friend's. "You? You took the initiative?" Horace's face showed a combination of surprise and hurt. "But…she's a…woman," he sputtered. "I always thought…I mean…you always seemed to be…there has never been a woman…has there?" Horace struggled to gather his thoughts.

Albus let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes as he turned away. "My private life is none of your concern," he said in annoyance. "Elizabett is special. Unique," he said more softly. "She's worth getting to know."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think there's definitely more to her than anyone thinks. I don't trust her. She's too nice. No one is _that_ naïve."

"I don't think it's naïve, but more an open-mindedness. She's intriguing."

"How long has this been going on?" Horace asked to Albus' silent stare. "Fine. Have your secret. But, I warn you;" he shook his finger at the older man, "no one raised in _that_ circle is ever completely innocent."

"The only innocent being is one who has not been tainted by the world around him. None of us are innocent, Horace. None of us," Albus quietly replied.

Horace's anger had lessened, but he still eyed his friend cautiously. "Fine. Get to know her…but when you grow tired of the female snare they call a mind, you'll know where to find me." He backed toward the door. Pausing with his hand on the handle, he snorted lightly at a memory. "Rather off topic, but I received an owl this afternoon from my niece. She has asked that I once again relay her thanks to the person who procured her the new post at the Ministry. She's quite happy with the change. Seems she's met a young man."

Albus gave a satisfied half nod as Horace left. Getting Kalina the transfer had been easy. People owed him favours and would remain silent. His lips twitched upward as he remembered being with Elizabett earlier in the evening. This promised to be a good summer.


	15. 15 Summer Plans

**15 – Summer Plans**

Exams ended. Students went home, and the staff spent the last week preparing to leave for the summer. Desks were cleaned up, offices cleaned out, and inventory taken for the upcoming year. There had been a small social gathering in the staff lounge on the last day, and Bathilda extended an invitation to Elizabett to visit her home in Godric's Hollow as she would be there all summer and would enjoy the company. Elizabett planned to head home for a few weeks before venturing to France but promised to visit before she left. She intended to be overseas for only a little while and was looking forward to seeing Albus this summer. The rift between Albus and Horace was obvious, but no one made mention of it. It could easily be read in their demeanour, as the two men seemed to keep their distance. Albus had some work to do with the Ministry before heading abroad as well. He wouldn't give details on his business, but then again, Albus was a quiet man who kept his activities very close to the chest.

It wasn't until later that evening, while Elizabett folded the last pieces of clothing for her trunk, when a light tap sounded at the door. Tossing the garment onto the pile, she wandered across the room to find Albus furtively glancing over his shoulder.

"Professor Babbling is around the corner," he whispered urgently as Elizabett quickly ushered him in. "I'm leaving tonight, and wanted to say good-bye without an audience." He looked up shyly, his cobalt eyes shimmering. "I never thought I would say this to anyone, but…I'm going to miss you."

Elizabett's heart leapt, and she felt it thud against the inside of her ribcage. She beamed at the older man before her. "I'm going to miss you, too. Any idea when I will see you again?"

Albus shook his head and shrugged. "It seems that our schedules are quite different for the first few weeks. End of July, probably. When we're both back from Europe."

"Is there a chance that we could meet over there?" Elizabett hoped. "I'd love to show you southern coast."

Albus smiled gently. "I'm afraid my destination is more north and to the interior. Hopefully, I won't be there long. Tensions are worse than ever."

"I've noticed," Elizabett agreed. "Would you stay for a while? I could call a house elf for tea."

Albus shook his head. "No, I'm afraid I have to go. I have a Portkey leaving at midnight."

Elizabett felt her heart sink, and her disappointment showed on her face. Albus ran his long, rough finger from her temple, down her cheek, to her lips. Then, he playfully poked the tip of his index finger into the corner of her mouth and pried it upward into a funny half smile.

"Smile," he spoke softly. "It's only for a few weeks."

Elizabett smiled weakly, and stepped close. Tipping her head up, their lips met in a sweet kiss that she couldn't stop. Gently wrapping her arms around his waist, she pulled him to her, feeling his tall body press against hers. He deepened the kiss, drawing her into his arms, engulfing her in the draping sleeves of his robe. It was slow and passionate, and Elizabett felt her knees begin to buckle. Albus caught her in his arms, leaning her backward as they tentatively stepped toward the sofa without breaking apart. Pulling her right arm in, she reached to his cheek, stroking the soft bristles of his beard lovingly before wrapping her fingers around his neck and pressing her chest against his. He responded by slowly lowering her onto the sofa, leaning his full length against her. She was propped up on the cheery, pale yellow cushions, her dark brown hair fanning the pillow, lending a contrast in colour. Albus could feel the rough fabric of his robe rub the soft undergarment her wore, and it stimulated the bulge that strained the cloth. His temperature rose, and he felt an uncontrollable urge to push forth. Elizabett responded to his movements. The hand that had been so firmly wrapped at the back of his neck worked its way over his shoulder, under his arm and was now stroking its way down his back toward his buttocks. Elizabett could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, and she wanted nothing more than for him to touch her.

Instinct took over, and she couldn't think clearly. She could feel his body against hers and wanted it all. As he held himself over her, never letting go, her right knee spontaneously rose by his hip, and he became nestled in the warmth between. She could feel him begin to move, a steady push impeded by an abundance of material. His hand worked up her ribs to cup a breast, and she pressed into him wanting as much contact as possible. Slowly kneading the soft skin through the cloth, he could feel her nipple harden. Albus groaned lightly into Elizabett's mouth as his fingers flicked over the tip resulting in Elizabett's hips to instinctively buck toward him. Never had he felt like this, to elicit such a response from someone with a mere touch. Running his left hand down her side, his fingers spanned her hip, pulling her close as he flexed forward. Elizabett moaned and shifted her head to the side, nuzzling his neck, and working her mouth to his earlobe. This sensation was new. She had never felt like this before. _This_ is what had been missing with Thomas, certainly not for his lack of trying, but the connection wasn't there, not like it was here, not like it was with Albus.

Elizabett smiled against Albus' skin and gave him a gentle squeeze. However, this seemed to break the intensity of the moment, and his head popped up, as if a spell had suddenly been broken. They gazed at each other, a longing in their eyes that they both knew couldn't happen, not now, not yet. Albus slowly lifted his body from Elizabett's and unsteadily stood by the sofa as Elizabett straightened herself and rose.

Brushing his left hand across his mouth, a sheepish grin crept over his features. "I, umm, didn't intend for that to happen." He timidly gazed at the woman before him.

"Nor did I," she returned with a bashful grin, but after a pause, she boldly added, "I don't regret it, though."

Albus beamed, proudly straightening to his full height, and reaching for her once again. Enveloping her in his arms, he whispered, "Something to look forward to in the future." Stepping back, he continued, "It's getting late. I have to go. I'll see you at the end of July."

"Have a safe journey, and be careful over there," Elizabett warned.

With a quick last kiss, Albus nodded, opened the door, and quickly disappeared. Elizabett instantly felt a loss, an empty void that she couldn't wait to fill when they saw each other again.

~~~***~~~

Elizabett remained with her parents for two glorious weeks enjoying being spoiled. She had made her promised visit to Bathilda's, and spent the day being told the history of Godric's Hollow from a long-time resident. Bathilda had even pointed out Albus' old house but shied away from saying anything more.

On the day before Elizabett went abroad, Thomas popped in for a visit. It was awkward at first, but they talked for an afternoon, taking pleasure in the light breeze by the pond, and a walk in the meadow. Their friendship had survived, and they were back to the old relationship that they enjoyed prior to the courtship. She was happy that he had found someone to share his life with. However, she didn't yet confide to him that there was someone new in her life. That was something that she wanted to keep private for now. She had told her mother, though, explaining that the new man was older and a colleague. Her mother was pleased for her, and while she had been disappointed that her relationship with Thomas hadn't worked out, she was happy that her daughter had moved on. Elizabett also told her mother of Grandmaman's January palm reading and of the "advise" that was given over Easter Break. Marceilla simply nodded knowingly, understanding that her mother's predictions were rarely wrong. Elizabett held hoped that her new friend would visit as planned during the summer, and Marceilla was anxious to meet the new love in her daughter's life.

~~~***~~~

The deep blue water of the Mediterranean Sea glistened in the midday sunlight, but the couple on the bank hardly noticed.

"C'est assez! Elle est notre grand-mère. Je ne vous permettrai pas de l'utiliser comme ça," Elizabett raged at Axius who looked taken aback by his cousin's sudden outburst.

"I'm well aware that she's our grandmother, and I'm not taking advantage of her," he staunchly defended, his dark eyes flashing. "She makes the best predictions and the best potions in the area. I'd be foolish not to ask now and then."

"Does she realize who she's making them for?" Elizabett narrowed her eyes at the older man as her jaw set tight. "She must know that you're lying about something. I know who you're in league with. Even Occlumens couldn't block her empathic skill."

"She must know. She's the best in what she does. And, she doesn't choose sides. She believes she's helping family, and if you take it literally, she is. She's helping me!" Axius defensively paced the hillock overlooking the sea. "And since when do you come to her rescue? You're in Britain, in your cosy new job, teaching about …Muggles." The word caught in his throat, and Elizabett thought he'd choke on it. "Merlin, Rosier was right. You _are_ an embarrassment."

Elizabett's hand flashed forward, and Axius was suddenly jerked from the ground, his feet dangling in mid air, his hand clasped to his throat. "Do not underestimate me, Cousin," she hissed through gritted teeth, scarlet creeping up her neck like mercury in a thermometer. "There is much of me that you do not know nor have the mental capacity to comprehend. Heed my warning. Leave Grandmaman out of this fight."

Axius flailed in the air, and she let him drop to the earth with a thump. Crumpled on his knees gasping for breath, he gazed up in angry shock. She had surprised him. He hadn't expected such a violent outburst, and wandless at that. Struggling to his feet, he straightened to his full height and took a step toward her.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of," he threatened, his dark eyes flashing with fury.

"On the contrary, Cousin, I know exactly what you're capable of, and be advised, I'm not afraid," she countered, holding her ground.

"You should be, especially if you claim to know "who I'm in league with"", he repeated her words menacingly.

Elizabett took a step toward her cousin, tipping her head to meet his face. "That's why I'm not afraid," she boldly contested.

They stood glaring at each other for a few moments, neither wanting to break contact first, but it was Axius who finally looked away, snorting arrogantly, and gazing toward the small, stone cottage.

"I promise. I won't let her be harmed," Axius finally relented. "She means a lot to me as well."

"Your Master knows this, and knows where she lives, thanks to you. She's a target, whether you like it or not. Did you not think of that?" Elizabett harshly chastised.

Axius' blank look gave her the answer. "I'll take care of it," he assured quietly.

"Be sure you do," Elizabett replied tersely.

As Axius began to descend the hill that headed toward a small grove of trees, he turned to Elizabett one last time before Disapparating. "Cousin," he called, "whose side are you on?" he asked curiously.

Elizabett's jaw tightened as she chose her words carefully. "The right side," she responded coolly.

~~~***~~~

Grandmaman Lestrange sat in her rocker by the low fire absently fanning herself with a large, wooden ladle. The small, cast iron cauldron that hung over the flame bubbled gently as a delicious aroma of dinner filtered through the main room. She leaned forward to stir the pot, tasting the brew from the end of the serving spoon as Elizabett entered and sat beside her. The two women rested in silence while a dry log split and sputtered on the hearth. Nothing had been said about Axius' visit two days ago, but the old woman knew that something was not right.

"You will leave soon," she quietly announced as Elizabett stared into the yellow flame.

"How do you know?" Elizabett uttered calmly, not moving.

"There is something in the air. I can feel it. It is something you must do," the old woman replied as she stirred the pot again. Elizabett inhaled hesitantly. "You do not trust your cousin," her grandmother added. "I am an old woman, cherie. I have lived long and seen much. Don't worry about me." She turned her head over her right shoulder to look at her granddaughter, giving her a reassuring nod.

Elizabett smiled weakly. On the contrary, she did trust Axius. She knew that he loved their grandmother and had no intention of harming her, but it was Axius' association with a more ruthless wizard that she didn't trust, and she knew that Gellert wasn't above using all methods within his grasp to get what he wanted. Although Axius had said that he'd take care of it, he had also brought Gellert Grindelwald to Grandmaman's cottage. It would take more than a plea of mercy to protect her. Elizabett gazed over at her grandmother who watched her intently.

"You will leave soon," she reiterated knowingly as she reached to pat Elizabett's knee. "But, for now, dinner is ready, and we eat. Yes?"

"Yes." Elizabett smiled affectionately at the old woman.

~~~***~~~

The instructions had been clear and audience was granted. The Cooling Charm that she had placed on herself was working well, but the heat of Northern Hungary in July made Elizabett's lips dry, and her tongue darted out to wet them, but then again, it could have been nerves. She stopped, staring at the dilapidated manor through the tall, wrought iron fence. It was made of white brick and clapboard, the paint peeling off in chunks, and the chipped black shutters precariously hung from their hinges. The grass was thigh deep, and the trees in the front yard had grown wild. The place was obviously abandoned, and a "condemned" sign hung from a single wire on the creaky, front gate. Elizabett paused on the sidewalk, staring up at the structure, her breathing shallow. Taking a slow, deep breath, she stepped forward passing through the first layer of oppressing wards that would chase any sane Muggle away. Giving the password at the rusted, iron gate, she carefully stepped up the gravel path, pushing the thorny brambles out of the way before reaching the decaying stairs that lead to the simple, front door. Stopping at the top of the landing, she took another slow breath, raised her hand, and pushed the door open without knocking.

Inside was an immense contrast to the derelict outer appearance. A grand, crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling in the main foyer lit by a multitude of glowing orbs. White and grey marble tile formed the immaculate floor and staircase that led to the second level. The furniture and woodwork was heavy and very masculine, dark with burgundy and black trim. There were two doors, one to the left and one to the right; both were closed. A hallway straight ahead seemed to lead deeper into the manor and to several chambers beyond. Elizabett turned left and opened an ornately carved door. This door had always intrigued her. It was a scene of absolute beauty, a waterfall amongst a forest, tiny sprites dancing at the water's edge, not something one would expect to find in such a place, but it served its purpose. It put people off guard. She entered the study to find her host sipping brandy in a comfortable winged chair.

"I'm pleased to see that you remembered your way," a smooth voice sounded as she stepped closer. He rose from his seat and approached his guest, coming within inches of her face. He gazed into her eyes, but saw only what she wanted him to see: her grandmother protectively flanked by Axius and herself by the peaceful Mediterranean. "Come. Sit," he invited graciously. "I don't often have guests, at least not one as pretty as you, and not ones who would voluntarily come here." He grinned wickedly. Elizabett steeled herself and sat in a matching wing chair beside her host's. "May I pour you a drink?" he politely offered, but Elizabett shook her head, "no". Taking his seat, he sighed and took a sip of the warm liquor. "I am so glad you've come to visit, but I somehow doubt this is a social call. What can I do for you?" he smoothly asked.

"When we last met, you said that you missed me," Elizabett kept her voice steady and amiable. "You said that you liked having someone to talk to. I realize that you have acquired quite a loyal following, but how many can you actually confide in?" Her lips turned upward in a slightly seductive smile.

He looked over the edge of his snifter with a raised eyebrow and a quirky grin. "And you've come to keep me company? Darling, I'm touched, but I'm well aware of how you feel about me. What is it you really want?"

Elizabett matched his calm countenance and casually leaned back in her seat before beginning. "If I understand your plan," she lazily toyed with a tendril at her temple, slowly glancing around the room, "you intend to play the Muggles against each other by use of _Imperio_ and a variety of other spells, a human chess game, if you will, only there is no king to be overthrown, merely a spectator to be entertained. The search for the Hallows and wizard dominance have always been your goals, but my curiosity has the better of me. I'm intrigued and interested in knowing more. I used to be your sounding board, and am here to listen." She calmly looked up from her comfortable position, spreading her hands innocently before her.

Gellert gazed at her with disbelief, but smiled self-importantly as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. "I am surprised. It has been a long time, but as you are bound to keep my secret…ah, where to begin," he sighed as he became lost in thought.

Elizabett listened intently as Gellert talked well into the night and into early morning. He boasted of his plan for a better Wizard world by the systematic elimination and control of Muggles, even if it meant coercing or removing a few "weak" wizards along the way. "For the good of all Wizard-kind", he proudly proclaimed. He was completely convinced that he was doing the right thing, and anyone who got in his way didn't deserve to be apart of his new world. He had a loyal and strong following in many northeastern countries, but he also had made many enemies. He knew he had to be careful.

By the time Elizabett left, her mind whirled. His plan was ingenious, brilliant, but also brutal and violent. He had no concern for anyone who opposed his perfect plan. Gellert had arrogantly let his guard down, and although bound to keep his secret, she could now formulate some plan of action to begin counter attacks. It would take creativity and resourcefulness. She had to be careful. Gellert wanted to see her again, and she would have to comply, but if her association with the darkest wizard of the time was discovered, it would be detrimental to her future…no... her life.


	16. 16 Allies In Familiar Territory

**16 – Allies In Familiar Territory**

The "whoosh" of the Floo activating in the foyer of Castlewood Manor went unheard as Elizabett stepped into a silent house. Calling and receiving no answer, she half-heartedly climbed the stairs to her room. Restoring her travelling bag to its normal size, she unpacked and headed to the bathroom for a good, long soak. Her stay in Europe had been longer than expected, having left Gellert's and travelling to Germany to see first hand what was going on. The mania had frightened her, and she could clearly see the madness growing. There would be no way to stop it, but there may be ways to stem some of the damage. When Elizabett emerged from the bath, her skin was wrinkled and pale. Drying off, she wrapped a large, fluffy green towel around her body and a smaller one around her wet hair, and padded back to the room to dress. It was warm out, but thankfully not as hot as Hungary had been, and she dressed in a pale pink robe with white trim. The robe fit her body nicely, and scooped low at the neckline. Its bell sleeves of sheer, white organza covered her arms, but were light enough to act as a fan, keeping her cool. Pulling her long, dark hair into a loose, high bun, she let a few damp tendrils curl at the sides and down her neck. The house elves would take care of the pile of dirty laundry, so she headed back down the stairs to the kitchen to find a bite to eat.

Petite met her as she entered, and graciously catered to the desire of her young mistress. Petite had been with the family even before Elizabett was born, and had helped care for the infant. She had also been Elizabett's first playmate as a child, and there had always been a special bond between the two. Elizabett knelt to thank her friend for the snack, then rose when she heard a voice enter from her mother's solarium.

Marceilla startled when she saw her daughter standing in the center of the kitchen but strode to her with open arms and a huge smile. Collecting her child in a crushing hug, the tiny woman breathed, "I'm so glad you're back and that you're safe. I've been so worried. There have been such horrible stories. How is Maman? Oh, I fear for her safety," Elizabett's mother fretted, her French accent becoming more pronounce as she spoke of home.

Elizabett returned the hug affectionately. "It's good to be back, and Grandmaman is fine. Don't worry. Axius is keeping an eye on her," she reassured.

Marceilla relaxed at the news and called to the diminutive elf. "Petite, could we have some ice tea? You make it so well," Marceilla praised her long-time servant.

Petite bobbed her head and disappeared only to return a few moments later with a pitcher of ice-cold tea, lemon slices floating on top, and four glasses on a tray. Marceilla took the tray, thanked the elf, and bid Elizabett to follow.

"Your father has been working with the Ministry again. This situation on the continent is getting out of hand, and with our personal connections and your father's business associates, they're hoping that he can help," Marceilla spoke as she led the way through the large, French doors that passed to the back, stone patio.

Elizabett could hear her father's voice, as she got closer, but stopped for a moment curiously listening to the second voice.

"Marceilla, dear, please help me convince Albus to stay for dinner," Julius appealed to his wife as she placed the tray on the white painted, wrought iron table.

"Of course, you must stay," Marceilla graciously invited. "We do so enjoy your company."

Albus smiled pleasantly from his comfortable spot in a chair that matched the table. "I don't want to overstay my welcome. After all, I was here for dinner only two nights ago."

Julius snorted dismissively. "Our work may be done for now, but you are always welcome here. How can I convince you to stay?"

Elizabett stepped into the doorway, her heart thudding hard in her chest, a smile growing on her face. "Maybe I can convince him." She grinned to her friend.

"Elizabett." Julius beamed as he rose to greet his daughter, reaching to give her an adoring hug. "When did you get back?"

"About an hour ago. The house was so quite, I thought that no one was home," she explained.

"Your father was showing me the grounds," Albus stated, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Quite a lovely place to grow up. Would you care to join us?" He I_Accio_'/Id two more chairs for Elizabett and Marceilla to sit, placing Elizabett's chair close to his.

Marceilla caught the byplay between the two and a look of realization showed on her face. As the two women passed each other to take their seats, she muttered under her breath to her daughter, "An older colleague?"

Elizabett's lips curled upward coyly, and her mother gave an approving nod.

"Albus has been working as a mediator with the Department of International Wizard Co-Operation. With the unrest in Europe and Albus' knowledge of the continent and skill in diplomacy, we've been trying to salvage and maintain diplomatic relations between the Wizard communities. It has degraded considerably since the last Muggle war, and it appears that Grindelwald may have a hand in creating further dissention. We know that he's been stirring things up in the Wizard world, but rumour has it that he now has a hand in the Muggle situation. I don't know why he would bother. He hates Muggles. Even so, there's little proof, and what proof there is, is circumstantial." Julius paused to take a sip of his ice tea. "What we need is solid evidence, but his followers cover him well. He's difficult to track."

"Darling, she's only just returned. Do we need to discuss this now? You know how it aggravates you," Marceilla pleaded with her husband, knowing that although he himself had no love for Muggles, he had a firm sense of fairness, and hated to see injustice at any level.

"How is your grandmother?" Albus smiled at Elizabett, changing the subject. "You speak of her so fondly."

"As feisty as ever." Elizabett grinned in response. "Gave me another palm reading." She mischievously gazed toward her friend.

"Really?" Julius naively joined the conversation. "I have yet to know one of your mother's readings to be wrong," he directed toward his wife. "What did she say?" He returned his attention to his daughter.

"That a friend would visit this summer, and would enjoy another walk around the grounds." Elizabett's lips curled upward flirtatiously at Albus.

"Really? But…" Julius innocently began, but Marceilla put her hand on his arm to stop him.

Elizabett rose and made her invitation with a gentle sweep of her right hand. "I realize that Father has already shown you around, but I'm certain he's missed a few places. Would you care to join me?"

"I would be delighted," Albus replied as he finished his tea, placed the empty glass on the table, and stood to offer Elizabett his elbow.

Slipping her hand into the crook of his arm, the pair nodded acknowledgment to her parents, descended the patio steps, and leisurely strolled across the emerald green grass toward the pond.

"But…but…" Julius sputtered cluelessly after the couple.

Marceilla reached to grasp her husband's fingers lovingly. "Remember what I told you when she first came home?" she spoke softly. "There was a new man in her life, older, a colleague." She nodded in her daughter's direction.

"No," Julius gasped in surprise. "Really? You think?" Albus wasn't exactly what he had in mind for his daughter, after all, the man was nearing fifty, closer to his own age rather than hers, and he was a half-blood. There had never been Muggle blood in the family line, and the potential of this relationship disturbed him. Yet, at the same time, he really liked Albus. He was intelligent, settled, and mature. He liked the way the man thought, and enjoyed his boyish sense of humour. Albus had spoken of his association with Elizabett from school, and expressed his respect and fondness for her, but hadn't mentioned a romantic connection. Julius watched the couple as they made their way down the sloping grounds. Their arms were no longer linked, and they kept a respectable distance, but he could see the familiarity in their manner as they spoke. He sighed as he watched his daughter's ease with this man, and the way he looked at her. The affection was obvious. He sighed again. This would take getting used to.

~~~***~~~

As Albus and Elizabett reached the pond, he finally gathered the nerve to voice his thoughts. "I've missed you," he said quietly, looking out over the still water. "I thought of you often when I was abroad, wondering where you were, and what you were doing."

"Really? I thought you'd be too busy to think of me. It sounds like you and my father have been working hard." Elizabett turned to him with an impish grin.

Albus smiled back. "We have been. There's so much going on, but I found that whenever something vital happened, or when something caught my interest, you were the first person I thought of. I wanted to share it with you, talk to you, or to know that you were safe."

"You worried about me?" Elizabett took a step toward her friend who took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder to where Elizabett's parents sat on the patio.

"Yes," he barely uttered above a whisper as his eyes shimmered into hers.

Standing barely inches apart; Elizabett reached her right hand to touch his sleeve. "I missed you, too," she tenderly replied. "I understand what you mean about wanting to share your thoughts. There were times when things happened and my first thought was "I wish Albus was here"."

His lips curled upward in a gentle smile as the back of his hand instinctively rose to stroke the soft skin of her cheek. "I so very much want to kiss you right now, but I'm not certain how your father would respond." He inclined his head slightly toward her parents. "I didn't tell him that we were involved. I didn't know what you had said to them."

"My mother knows, and I'm quite certain that she's relayed that information to my father by now. I can tell that he likes you. My father is a businessman, but he rarely invites people to our home. If you've been invited, he thinks highly of you."

"I wouldn't want to do anything to upset that." Albus' concern was evident, but his hand was still on her cheek, brushing gently toward her chin.

Elizabett closed the space between them and tipped her head to his. "I think he'll survive, but I'm afraid that if you don't kiss me soon, I'm going to crumble into the ground, never to be seen again." She pouted and batted her eyes playfully.

"I can't let that happen now, can I?" Albus smiled, slanting his head to meet hers, their lips brushing lightly together. "Merlin, you smell good," he breathed as his arms slipped around her slender body.

Elizabett smiled as she wrapped her arms around his waist, placing her head on his chest. They stood for a moment, comfortable in each other's arms before stepping apart to continue their walk. As they meandered away, Albus gently reached for Elizabett's hand and kissed the back, not letting go as they leisurely traversed the edge of the pond.

Marceilla and Julius watched from the patio, their fingers still entwined.

"Oh dear, this I_will/I_ take getting used to," Julius muttered as Marceilla gave his fingers a loving squeeze.

~~~***~~~

"So," Julius leaned back in the captain's chair at the head of the table, his index fingers steepled at his lips as his elbows rested on the arm rests. Dinner was over, and the conversation had been pleasant. Elizabett's father had tactfully steered away from asking personal questions, but he could no longer hold back. Something had to be said.

"I guess we'll be seeing you more of you this summer?" He eyed Albus suspiciously. "I mean, I had already issued a standing invitation, I just didn't realize that my daughter was part of your interest. If I may ask, Elizabett and Thomas ended their relationship at Easter, when did you two begin?"

"Father!" Elizabett admonished in shock.

"It's quite alright." Albus understood Elizabett's affront, but kept a calm and pleasant demeanour. "Your father is being a father. He wants what's best for his daughter."

"I'm glad you understand," Julius acknowledged, keeping a serious countenance.

"When we first met," Albus signalled between himself and Julius, "I mentioned my familiarity with Elizabett and my respect for her. I had an attraction to her from the start. She is intelligent and courageous, daring, yet gentle. She has a sweet and caring disposition. But, at the time, I dared not let her know of my interest. I'm not a young man, and felt that I should be content being a friend, and nothing more. When Thomas entered her life, I accepted that I would be no more than a colleague, but I must confess, the constriction I felt in my chest was a most unpleasant feeling, and I finally realized just how much I truly did care. I tried to keep a friendly distance and believe that what Elizabett and I share now is something that has grown from our friendship. It wasn't until shortly after she returned at Easter when we acknowledged our attraction to each other. Imagine my surprise, when she told me how she felt. She is a unique treasure, someone who has honoured me by allowing me into her life. I would do nothing to risk that."

There was silence for a moment as Julius stared at Albus, his fingers still at his lips, processing the information. "So," he reiterated. "I guess we'll be seeing more of you this summer?" A small smile crept over her father's features, and a twinkle began to shine in his eyes.

"If you will allow it?" Albus bowed his head slightly, remaining serious.

"Hmm, Marceilla? What do you think? Should we allow this man back into our home? This is our daughter we're talking about." He leaned toward his wife for corroboration.

Marceilla could hear the good-humour in her husband's voice, and nodded in agreement. "I rather like him, Julius." She smiled demurely.

"So do I." Julius broke into a broad grin and rose from his seat to extended his hand across the table to Albus. "As said before, my friend, you are always welcome."

Elizabett let out a breath that she hadn't known she'd been holding and beamed at the man across the table as he rose to meet her father. They clasped hands and smiled at each other.

"Brandy," Julius announced. "Care to join me in the study, Albus? Ladies, a liqueur?"


	17. 17 The Courtship of Elizabett and Albus

**17 – The Courtship Of Elizabett And Albus**

"And see this line here?" Elizabett pointed to the crease that ran from below the little finger of his right hand ending just below and between the index and second fingers. "This is you heart line. It tells…"

"…what my heart desires?" Albus wagged his eyebrows as Elizabett examined his palm.

"Hmm, sort of," she smirked mischievously. "It tells me something about what you're like. See how it ends up here between the fingers?" Albus nodded. "That means that you balance your life between what you want and what you're willing to give, a balance between selfishness and altruism."

Albus' gazed at his palm with concern. "Really?"

"And because it doesn't favouring either side, it also means that you passionate about what you do, dedicated. Usually, people with a heart line like yours, express themselves in a confident and assertive manner. Hmm, maybe professionally, but romantically?" Elizabett teased. "Certainly, not the man I met in the fall," she playfully muttered as his eyes shone at her. "They pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and move on when trouble occurs," she continued more seriously. "Although they learn from the past, they don't hang on to it. See how in the early stages there are a lot of links; it looks like a chain?" She pointed to the section of the line that ran under the little finger. "That means you had emotional turmoil early in life, trouble that you found difficult to deal with, probably the pain and loss that I detected at Valentines. It seems to have smoothed out a bit, but the line got rather flat. Right here." Elizabett indicated to a spot below the third finger where the heart line should have begun to curve up. "It's like you shut yourself off from others. Maybe, not allowing yourself to get close to anyone." Elizabett was intent and focused as she studied his palm. "That's a shame," she mumbled sadly as Albus gently withdrew his hand.

"That was enlightening," he spoke quietly. "I never realized that a proper palm reading would take so long or be so in depth."

"Most people think it's just looking at the lines, but there's so much more. It's the colour and texture of the skin, the shape of the palm, length of the fingers, the firmness of the mounts, and then, finally, the lines. And," Elizabett add holding up her hands, "It's both hands."

"Did it take you long to learn? It's not something taught at Hogwarts," Albus sipped his ice tea.

"I guess it's something I've always been fascinated with. My grandmother is very gifted. She taught me much. My mother says that the skill skipped a generation and that I have my grandmother's gift. I think a lot of it is instinct," Elizabett shrugged.

Albus smiled as he leaned back in his seat examining the hand Elizabett had just held. The warm August breeze cut across the meadow and up the small hill that led to the stone patio. Julius and Marceilla had grown accustom to Albus' visits over the past few weeks, and he had become a frequent and welcome guest.

"You look troubled," Elizabett began again as she watched Albus' serene features cloud over. "Did the visit to London not go as planned?" she questioned. She had waited for him to bring up the subject, but as their relationship grew, it was slowly becoming obvious that she occasionally had to prompt him to share information.

Albus slowly shook his head. "There is something not quite…right…with the boy," he confided remembering his visit to the London orphanage a few days ago. "I realize that I must take into account how the boy was raised and what he has been through. He's extremely independent and most definitely talented, but," Albus shook his head again at the memory, "it seems directed toward cruel and self-serving purposes. The stories that the Directress of the home had were unnerving, and the boy seems to collect…trophies from those he bullies. He would have to be watched carefully."

"As you said, we must take into account how he was raised. He's lived in that institution since he was a babe. His behaviour may simply be a defence mechanism. You know, survival of the fittest, and if he has powers, he's going to use them to protect and advance himself. He's probably never been taught appropriateness or control."

"Oh, he seems to have a great deal of control. He tries to exert it over others," Albus countered with concern, "Still, there's something not right. Gut feeling, if you will. I don't trust him."

"Oh, Albus," Elizabett smiled sweetly, "he's just a boy. I'm sure that once he learns how to manage his powers, he'll be fine."

Albus gazed at the charitable young woman across from him. He had his doubts, and they nagged at him terribly, but maybe she was right. He should give the boy a chance.

~~~***~~~

"How was your summer?" was the question most frequently asked at the staff meeting during the last week of August. The staff was cheerfully back in full force, schedules and duties were distributed, and chatter filled the first floor conference room. Albus and Elizabett had agreed to keep their relationship quiet, although not secret, and choose to sit apart at the meeting. Bathilda's amused smirk during the proceedings kept Elizabett in a chipper mood as her friend kept glancing between Elizabett and a sour-faced Potions Master who glared at the couple with suspicion. Horace was usually quite amiable with others present but was presently acting like a jilted lover. He had spoken to Albus prior to the meeting but obviously didn't get the news he hoped for. Bathilda had presumed that something was going on at the end of the last school year, but it was during a conversation on the way to dinner that first evening when her suspicions were confirmed. She hooted with laughter at the news and whispered bluntly to the young Muggles Studies teacher, "Better you than Horace, thank Merlin!"

~~~***~~~

The commencement of classes was routine, and Elizabett found that the inevitable onslaught of war was juicy fodder for her most senior classes. They couldn't get enough, claiming that the Wizard world would never allow itself to succumb to such barbaric behaviour. Elizabett had been closely following the growth of European dissention, knowing who had started it all, and the anxiety in the pit of her stomach often made her feel ill. On a few occasions in class, she played "Devil's Advocate" comparing the fascist ideals in Eastern block countries to those held by Slytherin House, and the controversial conversations that ensued had to be kept in close check. Tempers flared. After British Prime Minister Chamberland and the French leaders gave Germany permission to invade Czechoslovakia, she knew that Gellert had extended his reach. She began formulating plans, often using ideas from her students, and discussing them with Albus, who thought it was an interesting class exercise. Unfortunately, after one difficult afternoon, Elizabett was called into the Headmaster's office. He had received letters from parents and Governors upset with the topic being discussed. Elizabett was reprimanded, and it was suggested that, although there may be places to make comparisons, stirring up such ideas at this particular time was not wise. Elizabett agreed with regret and sought solace in Albus' chambers afterward.

"How stupid could I be?" she chastised herself while he made her a cup of tea. "It was so interesting, but I should have known better." She flopped onto the sofa and buried her face in her hands.

"You made it clear that you youself do not hold such beliefs, that it was merely an exercise to stimulate their thinking. Armando is reasonable, and I'm sure understands your sincerity. As for the Board of Governors, I'm quite certain that you've probably gained confidence from some of those who previously opposed you. It could appear to some that you have maintained Slytherin sympathies."

Elizabett's head shot up in surprise. "My parents were Slytherin. You know how I was raised," she defended, but Albus casually waved her off.

"I'm thinking of Mr. Black and those from your former circle, those who think you've betrayed your heritage. This could be a good thing. Let them think what they like. It's of no consequence. Chalk it up to learning experience and move on," Albus calmly advised. "Trust me, you're not the first to stir things up and get reprimanded for it." He looked rather sheepish as he handed her the tea and sat beside her on the sofa.

She twitched a crooked smile at him. "Have you done something as foolish as this?"

"Worse," he deadpanned taking a sip of the hot liquid but offering no more information.

"What?" Elizabett demanded as her smile grew.

"What, what?" Albus played dumb, placing the teacup onto the low table in front of them.

"You know "what". What did you do?" She pushed forth demanding an answer.

"I don't know "what" you're talking about," Albus struggled to hide his grin.

Elizabett lunged at the unsuspecting man, and they tumbled back into the cushions. With Elizabett on top, she reached her hand to his ribcage and began to tickle. She had found a particular spot during the summer and had vowed to make good use of it when needed. Albus' face turned pink as he withheld the laughter, but it finally broke loose, and he roared as Elizabett's fingers relentlessly attacked. As they wriggled, the couple rolled off the sofa and onto the floor, trading places in the process, and wedging themselves between the sofa and the table. With Albus on top, he leered playfully and whispered, "My turn", only his hand never reached her ribcage. It stopped to rest on her breast. The smiles and laughter faded as his fingers tentatively began a sensual massage. With his left arm tucked under her neck, he lowered himself to press the full length of his body against hers. She was so small under him that he had to rest some of his weight on his left leg so not to crush her. This was not the first time they had found themselves in a similar position, and it had never gone further, but the desire was obvious as the two began to move seductively together. Elizabett craned her head up to nip at his lower lip, and Albus responded by wrapping his right arm under her, half lifting her from the ground to feel her body more fully against his, deepening the kiss. He didn't know how much longer he could hold off. The ache in his groin was almost painful at times. Never had he desired anyone the way he desired her. Elizabett's knee rose to his hip pushing the table slightly off-balance, and she wrapped her ankle around the back of his leg. Her hips instinctively flexed forward as she groaned lightly into his mouth resulting in Albus impulsively bucking against the warmth that he could feel radiate from beneath the cloth. The kisses became more passionate, and the pair became lost in the moment, hands pulling at material, trying to rid each other of such confinement. Skin. Her skin was hot. She was flushed, and her eyes glistened with a light he had never seen before. Sliding his hand under her skirt and inside the back of her knickers, he cupped her bare buttocks, stroking the smooth skin. There was still far too much material, and they were still jammed between the sofa and the coffee table with little room to manoeuvre. It was frantic and awkward and…CRASH…the table was knocked over. Teacups went flying, and the mood was rudely interrupted. Shaking his head as if to wake himself, Albus poised his body over hers, not moving. Her leg was still wrapped around his, and her hands held his lower back firmly. Although her cheeks were flushed, she was not embarrassed by their position. Her head tipped up, and he nuzzled the crook of her neck.

"I don't want to let go," she whispered hoarsely into his ear, flexing forward again to boldly make her point.

"Nor do I," Albus croaked, shifting his weight off of her, "but we must." He rolled onto his back, and they lay side by side, his arm still tucked under her head, both breathing heavily.

"I've never wanted anyone like this before. Gods, it's so intense," Elizabett quietly stated staring up at the wooden ceiling.

"Trust me, I understand," Albus shifted uncomfortably, moving his hand to indistinctly rub the fabric tented at his groin.

Elizabett rolled to her side and placed her hand on his chest, inconspicuously glancing down at the bulge that was most definitely intriguing. Albus' hand lay motionless on his robe, and Elizabett could see the restraint on his face as if he was willing the discomfort away. Her left hand slowly crept down his chest, and she gently caressed his fingers. He gave them a light squeeze before she withdrew it and allowed it to continue its path. She could feel his heart race against her cheek, and he inhaled sharply as she reached her destination. She had no idea what to do, but through the material, she could feel the hard shaft twitch at her touch, and the tips of her fingers gently stroked its length. Albus shuddered. Easing the material of his robe up, she daringly slipped her hand under and fumbled with his undergarment. His hand mechanically grasped hers, directing her to what was needed most. Guiding her, he wrapped her full hand around his shaft and taught her to stroke steadily, occasionally brushing her palm across the swollen tip. She watched her actions and leaned to see his expression change. His eyes were closed, and his breath grew short as he began to stiffen. This was amazing. Within seconds, he convulsed under her grip, and released himself into her hand.

"Are you okay?" Elizabett innocently asked when he finally lay still.

"I'm blind," Albus croaked with a funny, crooked smile.

"What?" Elizabett propped onto her elbow with concern.

Albus reached his hand to cup her cheek, drawing her into a lazy kiss. "I'm fine…more than fine…I'm just gathering my senses."

Elizabett lay back down, and snuggled under Albus' arm for a moment until he regained himself. Then, hoisting himself to his feet, he reached to help her up. "I think I owe you my thanks," he whispered as she was gathered into his arms.

"Glad I could lend a hand," she snorted into his chest as they both chuckled.

~~~***~~~

Professor Merrythought had his head tilted toward Albus at the dinner table on Tuesday evening, both deep in conversation. Elizabett sat in her usual spot, two seats down between Madam Olfield, the librarian, and Professor Babbling. The Runes professor seemed to have soften somewhat over the summer, and although wasn't talkative, at least wasn't her habitual frosty self to the Muggle Studies professor. The meal was agreeable; Beef Wellington, and Elizabett had learned to tune out the din of hundreds of students' chatter while she ate. The fall equinox had passed without much notice, and the weather began to cool. Albus had returned to his work in the lab and spent last Saturday evening with his friend, Nicholas. Horace was glad to see Albus' back in the dungeons and occasionally shot Elizabett a superior look when he wasn't ignoring her.

After dinner, Elizabett wove her way through the throng of students and headed for the greenhouses. She had volunteered to help Professor Flaurance prepare a new crop of seedling Mandrakes for the upcoming group of students. As her heels clicked the stone pathway, she heard a heavier footfall behind her. Turning to look over her shoulder, she stopped and waited.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Elizabett questioned guardedly.

"Yes," the heavy Potions Master puffed. "Slow down. How can someone so small, move so quickly?" He wiped his brow with a large, white handkerchief as he approached.

Elizabett waited patiently for him to catch up.

"I've had a chat with Albus…or rather, he had one with me," he began uncomfortably. "I can only say this: I'm not entirely sure I trust you, but Albus assures me that it was he who made the initial move in this relationship. I have to admit, I don't understand. But, he does seem happy, and…I don't know, there's a sparkle about him. It's good to see, and it seems that it is you who has brought this about." Horace shifted his feet, then jutted out his chin as if the next part was difficult to say. "If this is to continue, or become more serious…I…wish you all…the happiness," he managed to sputter as he swallowed hard, his face reddening.

Elizabett was taken aback by the comment. "Horace," she began carefully, " I know your mistrust comes from your experience with my former circle, and as such, you have every reason for that mistrust, but I assure you, I would never do anything to harm Albus. What began as a friendship has grown into something that I didn't expect, but cherish more than anything in the world. I hope you can understand and accept that."

Horace nodded slowly, his lips pressed tightly together. "I believe that you are sincere," he shifted uneasily. "I just needed to speak my piece."

"I'm glad you did," Elizabett compassionately reached for his sleeve, her fingers lightly brushing the fabric. "I didn't like the animosity. The energy was unbalanced. It was uncomfortable."

Horace's bushy moustache twitched as he began to rock on his heels. "Right then," he began abruptly, his fingers fidgeting with the gold buttons on his bright green vest. "I have a meeting with some student this evening. A new crop of intriguing possibilities this year, and of course, the old ones. Must get back to my office. They should be arriving soon."

"Have a lovely evening, Horace," Elizabett called pleasantly as they turned their separate ways.

~~~***~~~

"But, aren't you on duty tonight?" Elizabett asked as Albus took hold of her elbow and steered her down the stairs behind the dinner table after Friday night's meal, attracting the attention of a few teachers left behind.

"Not tonight," he replied quietly, grinning mischievously. "I switched with Professor Merrythought. While you were on duty on the lower levels Wednesday evening, I took Merrythought's upper levels at the same time."

"Why didn't you say something?" Elizabett questioned curiously. The patrol had lasted several hours, and they hadn't seen each other that night.

"Because," Albus was grinning broadly at this point, "tonight is the opening concert at the University of Edinburgh. Tickets were required, and," he reached into his robe pocket to pull out two, small slips of light blue paper, "I happen to have acquired two." He made a grand bow to Elizabett and took her right hand in his, playfully making his request. "Dear Miss Castlewood, would you care to join me for a lovely evening of classical music?"

Elizabett was grinning foolishly as she formally curtseyed to her beau, giving his hand a light squeeze. "I would love to. I didn't even look into it when I thought you were on duty," she replied agreeably. " What time does it start?"

"In about an hour. Think you can be ready?" he asked rising to his full height.

Elizabett nodded. "I'll meet you at the Main Entrance in half an hour. That would give us time to get to Hogsmeade and Apparate from there, then walk up to Alison House."

"Half an hour, it is," he confirmed as he kissed the back of her hand.

As the couple exited by the small, wooden door to the left of the High Table, they were oblivious to the few gapping mouths behind them. Professor Flaurance giggled at their playful display, and Professor Kettleburn joyfully exclaimed, "Good for them!"

~~~***~~~

The concert had been excellent, and afterward Albus and Elizabett enjoyed a quiet repast at a teahouse in Nicholson Square that, according to Albus, served the most wonderful crumpets and strawberry jelly. Then, upon Apparating back to Hogsmeade, they took a leisurely stroll from the village to the castle. The weather was perfect, not too crisp, and the stars glistened in the late October sky. They chatted about the upcoming weekend and the week to come. Samhain was approaching, and according to Albus, Nicholas and his wife wanted to meet Elizabett. Both had opted out of chaperoning the Hogsmeade weekend, remembering last year's event with Thomas, which left them available to venture for the visit during the day and be back in time for the feast.

However, the week prior to the holiday turned out to be a great deal busier than anticipated. Albus had become very much involved with his "hobby", leaving Elizabett to herself. She knew how obsessive he could be when he was "on a roll" and took the opportunity to visit with Bathilda. When Albus didn't appear at the High Table for the second day in a row, Horace self-righteously smirked at Elizabett. Now, she would know what he had gone through. However, later that evening as a few colleagues shared tea in the staff lounge, Albus entered wearing a broad grin and was stiff with excitement. Anxiously glancing around the room, his eyes finally landed on Elizabett. Purposefully striding to her as she sat with Bathilda on the sofa by the fire, he looked like a child ready to explode with news, fairly bouncing on the spot. The women looked up at him curiously.

"Number six," Albus finally burst forth. "It worked."

Elizabett rose to her feet. She knew how hard he had worked on this particular part of the experiment. There had been many late nights, and many visits with Nicholas over the past months. "Congratulations," she beamed. "Have you sent news yet?"

"No, I wanted you to be the first to know. When you weren't in your chamber, I thought you might be here," he grinned boyishly.

Elizabett shyly glanced around the room at the few colleagues who were watching the exchange, but it was Albus who made the first move. Taking her hands, he kissed her fingers and pulled her closer. "You've been so supportive, so patient," he spoke quietly.

Elizabett smile demurely at her man, then reached to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Send the owl. I'm sure he'd want to know."

With a quick peck on her forehead, Albus left Elizabett in the staff lounge and headed for the Owlery. Nicholas would be just as excited to hear the news.

~~~***~~~

Close to the end of the week, Albus and Julius were summoned to the Ministry again regarding the increasing violence in the European Wizard community, particularly in Poland and Hungary. It appeared that both countries demanded part of deposed Czechoslovakia, and the frenzy that ensued prompt the Wizard Ministries to investigate possible magical forces that may be involved. Elizabett's senior classes were still paying special attention to the political scene and were presently working on a comparative study of Muggle verses Wizard political tensions through history. In private discussions with Albus, she was able to add her own commentary, shrewdly including some information that Gellert had revealed during the summer. By using her students' work as the basis, she was able to relay information in a way that did not risk her Secret Keeper bond or put her in danger. Albus was fascinated with the scenarios, as they seemed to parallel what was happening at the time. He took the information with interest and promised to look into it.

~~~***~~~

By Halloween, Albus had still not returned, and Elizabett's concern grew as she waited through the morning and into the afternoon. The older students and some of the staff excitedly ventured into Hogsmeade while the younger students fussed about not being able to join in the fun. So, Elizabett concocted a plan that would keep them both busy. Gathering a group restless first through third years', she herded them down the side of the rocky hill behind the castle toward the Care of Magical Creatures compound. Professor Kettleburn was happy to show off his new collection of Sillingwats, and the children appreciated having something different to do. The school pumpkin patch was nearly depleted due to the house elves making pies for the feast, but Elizabett had been granted permission to use what was left for the children to team up and carve jack-o-lanterns. Most were happy to work with the others, but one young boy caught Elizabett's attention.

"It's Tom, isn't it?" she approached an attractive, dark-haired first-year who sullenly stood to the side watching the others.

The boy raised his head to eye the teacher suspiciously.

"Marcie and Aristotle are by themselves. I'm sure they'll let you join them," Elizabett encouraged kindly.

Tom lowered his eyes to the young Hufflepuffs who sat on the ground happily gutting an odd-shaped pumpkin.

"Come on. Don't be shy," Elizabett gently took hold of his arm to lead him to the others.

Tom slowly eased his arm away from the Muggle Studies teacher and spoke to her for the first time. "I can do it myself…if I want," his voice was quiet as he half-heartedly moved toward the other children and sat on the ground beside them. They uneasily shifted away as he took up his wand, reluctantly helping carve the misshapen squash.

Elizabett watched the boy with interest. She had seen him in the halls, and he appeared to be somewhat reclusive, very independent. The other teachers liked him for he was very bright and had a certain charm. But, Albus had been right, and her instincts suggested a mean streak beneath the charisma. There was hostility hiding beneath the surface, from what, she didn't know, but she chose to watch him carefully, as well.

The evening feast was a noisy event, and Elizabett couldn't understand how the older students could eat sweets all day and stuff themselves at night without getting sick. Albus still had not returned, and Elizabett's mood was lower than gnomes digging up a prize vegetable garden. He was way overdue. They had missed the visit to Nicholas', and no one had received word from him. She tried not to show her concern, but even the Headmaster seemed worried. Several colleagues offered words of encouragement, even Horace uncharacteristically voiced his support, and Bathilda invited her to her quarters that evening, but Elizabett declined. She wasn't in the mood for anyone's company… anyone's except Albus'.

~~~***~~~

The midnight moon shone brightly through the living room window and into her bedroom. Elizabett had tossed and turned for an hour, trying to get to sleep, but her mind kept racing. She had given Albus information about Gellert's plans. Albus had said that he'd look into it. Oh Gods, what if something happened? It would be her fault. Gellert was ruthless. She'd seen first hand what he was capable of. Albus was a diplomat, a strong wizard, mind you, but strong enough to battle someone like Gellert? What had she done? Elizabett threw the bedcovers off and pulled her light blue bathrobe over her shoulders. Making a decision, she headed to the door, and pulled it open. Glancing down the dark hallway, she slid out of her room. She had to check. Was he back yet? Quickly moving from the witches' wing to the passage leading to Gryffindor Tower, Elizabett paused by an alcove at the end of the corridor. Last year, at this time, Albus had been standing in that alcove and had startled her. There was no one there now, but she was drawn to the glassless window. Placing her hands on the cold, stone ledge, she saw Orion glittering low in the sky, and the memory of that night returned. She couldn't admit it then, but realized it now; she had been attracted to Albus from the start. Her chin began to quiver, and tears rolled down her cheek. Was he all right? What was keeping him?

"If Orion is not careful, Scorpius will sneak up behind him?" A tired voice sounded from the corridor.

Elizabett's heart jumped at the familiar line. "Are you Scorpius?" she asked.

"No," the voice was closer now.

Elizabett turned and flung herself into Albus' arms. "I was so worried. I couldn't sleep. I was on my way to check if you were home yet."

"But, got sidetracked by the stars," Albus twitched a weary smile as he wrapped his arms around her.

"I was remembering last year, our conversation here. Oh Albus," she snuggled against his chest, "when you didn't show up and no one heard from you, my imagination got the best of me. I'm so glad your safe."

He stroked her spine and rested his chin on the top of her head. "I'm back now. It's all right," he reassured. Releasing his grip and turning her back toward the window, he stood behind her, his arms enclosing around from the rear as they gazed out at the peaceful sky. "It's hard to believe what people are capable of – Wizard or Muggle – the harm that they can inflict upon one another," Albus sighed. "I look out at the sky, and I see a thousand possibilities for peace, each light a glittering glimmer of hope, and yet, so many ignore those possibilities. When I see you, I see hope and possibility in actuality. You give me support and encouragement. You stand by the silly things I sometimes do. You're patient and kind, strong and daring. I don't know if you realize that I often gather my strength from you." Elizabett shifted in his arms to face him. "My darling Elizabett," he sighed, "you are my muse. You demand nothing yet give so much. You bless me with your acceptance and honour me with your love." He slowly released her and lowered his head, fumbling in the pocket of his dark brown, work robe. "I had planned to do this earlier, in a different way, but now seems to be the better time," he muttered. Taking her hands in his, Albus lowered to one knee before her. "Dearest Elizabett, you are my glimmer of hope in this tremulous world. Will you honour me with your hand in marriage?"

Elizabett became dizzy as her temperature rose. This was something that she hoped for, dreamed of. Albus still held her hand as she unsteadily knelt before him. "Never kneel to me," she whispered. "You are not subservient, nor are you beneath me. It is I who am honoured by your acceptance. You are an incredible man, my friend, and my support. You can have more than my hand; you can have all of me," she grinned. "Yes, I'll marry you."

Opening the tiny, black velvet box in his left hand, Albus withdrew a simple gold and diamond band and slipped it onto Elizabett's ring finger. It magically adjusted to fit perfectly. Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed the back and whispered, "You are mine."


	18. 18 In The Moments Before Dawn

**18 – In The Moments Before Dawn**

He did it. He couldn't believe that he finally gathered the nerve. His arm was going numb as Elizabett lay snuggled against his chest in the moments before dawn, but he didn't care. She had agreed to be his. When they left the alcove, they had gone to his chambers and had talked until neither could form a coherent sentence, then had fallen asleep, safe and secure, in each other's arms, stretched out on the magically lengthened sofa. Now, Albus lay awake in the pre-dawn darkness, groggy but content, feeling the warm mass by his side. He could get used to this. He had given up hope of ever having someone in his life, someone to love. He had been badly disappointed once and had closed himself off from ever being hurt again, but she was different. Special. She had an unusual magic about her. But above all else, she was a friend. He had informed her father, more than a month ago, of his intent, and hoped for and received his blessing, but the proposal hadn't gone as planned. He intended to return early enough for them to visit Nicholas, then during the Halloween feast, he was planned to ask Professor Flaurance if she would mind switching places so that Elizabett could sit beside him. The proposal was supposed to occur during a moonlight walk by Black Lake that evening, but events in Hungary impeded his agenda. He recognized one of Elizabett's scenarios playing out in the Muggle political scene, and it led him and Julius to Germany. There, it was blatantly obvious that _Imperio_ was in use, and the European Federation of Wizard Law Enforcement was informed. The delay was longer than expected as the investigation began immediately, and they were needed for collaboration. Finally arriving home, he had been on his way to his chambers when he spied Elizabett in the alcove. The moonlight on her hair and her defeated posture struck his heart. He had missed her more than he imagined. Funny how things work out. With his proposal plans ruined, another, better opportunity had presented itself. _And she had said "yes",_ he beamed in the darkness at the memory, giving the woman by his side a light squeeze.

Elizabett could feel the steady rise and fall of Albus' chest as he slept and smiled contently against the rough material of his robe. She was so relieved that he was safe. They had talked about his delay, and he explained recognizing one of the scenarios that she had told him about. He and her father had gone to Germany to investigate. Her heart had thudded in panic at the potential of losing both of them. What had she done? She had put both of them in danger. But, at the time, it was the only way that she could think of to stem some of the damage without revealing herself. She would have to reconsider the possibilities, maybe find a better way. _But, now that he had proposed_, she smiled again, _passing along the information may be easier_. They had also talked about how to announce their engagement and when they wanted the wedding to occur. Elizabett's parents would be the first to be informed in a quick visit before lunch, and upon their return, they would tell some of their closest colleagues. Shifting slightly at feeling a light squeeze around her shoulders, she sleepily toyed with the fastenings of Albus' robe. His hand covered hers and was lazily drawn to his lips for a tender kiss.

"Good morning," Elizabett murmured happily.

"I'm not sure it's morning yet," Albus bent to kiss her forehead. Shifting to look toward the window, she was pulled back into loving arms. "And where do you think you're going?" Albus' lips curled up into seductive smile.

"I was just checking," Elizabett said naively.

"It doesn't matter," he stroked her spine. "It's Sunday. Breakfast is served late…if we want to go at all." He eyed her roguishly.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she exclaimed in mock surprise, "What are you suggesting?"

"Merely that there is no immediate need to rise. It's still fairly dark outside, and you're keeping me warm." Albus smiled playfully.

Elizabett glanced toward the fireplace. "We could always stir up the fire," she suggested.

"Indeed, we can," Albus nipped at her shoulder, his lips tracing a sensual path to the crook of her neck, nuzzling the warmth.

"That's not what I meant," Elizabett giggled as her head tipped back to allow him better access.

"No?" Albus continued his assault moving across her jaw line to her lips, his hands beginning a route of their own.

"No," she groaned as his hand reached her breast, kneading the soft flesh tenderly. "But it will do." She arched, pressing for more contact.

Gentle caresses stoked the fire that grew between them, and the longing that they had denied themselves for months was finally unleashed.

"It seems that I'm at an advantage," Albus slipped his hand inside Elizabett's robe, fingering the buttons that fastened the front of her nightdress. "You're already half undressed," he added as his hand pushed the cotton away to touch flesh.

"Not fair," Elizabett whispered into his ear, "that must be rectified." She had inconspicuously undone his buttons and began to push the heavy robe off his shoulders.

It was like a slow motion unwrapping of gifts before all clothes lay in a heap beside the sofa. It was sensual and unhurried, tenderness and care showing with every move. All banter had stopped, and all senses were alert as lips and fingertips caressed skin in a dance that had a music all its own.

They lay facing each other, timidly exploring smooth skin under delicate touches, feeling the warmth grow. She could feel him hard against her abdomen and submissively rolled onto her back. Albus propped up onto his right elbow and eased his left leg over hers, continuing the feather-light kisses across her collarbone to her breast. The brush of his beard against her skin made her smile, but she restrained the ticklish giggle as he sucked the tip into his mouth. She gasped at the sensation as he began to suckle, and her hips instinctively flexed toward him. His left hand reached for the other breast to balance the sensitivity, gently rolling the bud between his fingertips. She had never felt anything like this before and could feel her temperature rapidly rise. All mental capacity was gone, and she was acting on pure impulse. Feeling him slide on top of her, she unconsciously raised her knees to cradle him between, her hands stroking down to brace his lower back, holding him in place. She could feel him press forward with controlled intent, and then, with a determined thrust, he was inside and an indescribable sensation of pure and utter pain shot through her; a ripping feeling that had her grip his back and bury her face into his chest so to not scream. He held her tightly and didn't move, braced on his elbows above her.

"Do I stop?" he whispered in concern.

"No," she returned as the pain began to subside. "Go slow."

He withdrew slowly and eased back in setting a comforting pace, and Elizabett began to move with him, joining the rhythm, feeling the pain turn to pleasure. Opening her eyes, she saw Albus watching her from above, a look of concentration and concern on his face. She twitched a smile and gave him a half nod, and he thrust forward with purpose setting an unwavering rhythm that threw Elizabett over the edge and into ecstasy. Letting out a groan that reverberated off the walls of the living room, coloured stars exploded behind her eyelids. She could feel her internal walls contract around him as he straightened onto his arms with purpose and thrust hard one last time, spilling into her. Slowly lowering on his elbows to rest, her fingers ran up and down his back, easing the muscles.

"Now I understand what you meant about being blind," Elizabett smirked into his shoulder.

Albus groggily raised his head and gave her a crooked smile. "I hadn't planned to do this yet. Are you all right?" She nodded. "I'd done some research. I'd heard that the first time for a woman was painful, but I didn't realize…. I'm sorry if I hurt you." He drew his right hand up to trace the dry tear track that ran to her temple.

"Research?" she snorted with amusement at the thought. "What kind of research? I don't think any books are written on the subject."

He withdrew and rolled onto his back, his left arm rising to his forehead as his cheeks turning crimson. "Promise not to be offended?" She rolled onto her side, waiting for him to continue. "I …aaaa…went to Knockturn Alley and spoke with a few …aaaa …well … I… aaa…"

"Did you do with them what you just did with me?" She could feel a constriction in her chest.

"Goodness no!" he spun his head to look at her, the sincerity clear in his face. "I just asked a lot of questions. Some thought I was daft, but I assumed that you were a virgin, and, my experience is…well…limited. I wanted to know the best way to gratify you with the least amount of discomfort. I saw the blood. Are you all right?" His concern returned.

"I'll live…only to want more," she leered mischievously. "Three cheers for research. Gods that was incredible!" she gasped, burying her face in the cushion. "Am I allowed to say that?" Her head popped up, and she flushed with embarrassment. "It's not improper?"

Albus chuckled. "I'm glad I could please you. I think this is going to be a learning experience for both of us." He reached to tuck Elizabett under his arm, against his chest. "Be patient with me."

Elizabett stroked the coarse chest hair and ran her hand under his beard. "Patient with you?" she snorted. "Only if you're patient with me. What better place to learn…in a school," she giggled. "But, promise me one thing," Elizabett turned serious, raising her head slightly to look at him as he nodded. "No more trips to Knockturn Alley. Let's learn this together."

Albus smiled and pulled her into an affectionate squeeze. "I promise."


	19. 19 Between Friends

**19 – Between Friends**

"Circe and Merlin!" Bathilda exclaimed, pushing a loose strand of silver hair away from her face and into the low bun, "what's this all about? Albus, you had poor Elizabett frantic with worry. And, neither of you have been seen all day. What's going on?" the older woman opened her chamber door in the late, Sunday afternoon, to allow the couple in, motioning them to sit on the worn-out, brown brocade sofa in the parlour. "I don't remember the last time you visited, Albus. Elizabett, dear, you're flushed, are you all right? Tea?" She shuffled around the kitchen area, preparing a tray.

Albus withdrew his wand, giving it a quick flick, and took the kettle from the old woman's hand, placing it back on the counter. "We've just returned from Elizabett's parents and would like to speak with you for a moment," he said amiably, inviting her to join them.

Bathilda wiped her hands on the skirt of her charcoal robe and lowered herself into the armchair across from her guests to listen.

"I have known you since I was a child," Albus began smoothly. "You tried to befriend my family during a difficult time when we first arrived in Godric's Hollow. I have not forgotten your compassion. We have also worked together for many years, and have gotten along agreeably. You have taken Elizabett under your wing and shown her great kindness since she's been here. We consider you a valued friend." Bathilda silently watched the couple. "We wanted you to be the first at Hogwarts to know," his lips began to curl up proudly.

Bathilda's brows furrowed warily. "Know what?" she turned to Elizabett who blushed deeper, raising her left hand for Bathilda's inspection. "A ring?! Merlin!! Albus, you dog!" Bathilda grasped Elizabett's hand to examine the gold and diamond band more closely, rapidly moving her head between the two, not knowing what to say. "Congratulations!" she finally beamed. "Oh, this is news. And you told me first? I'm honoured. Oh, my. Do you plan to make a formal announcement at dinner tonight?"

"No," Elizabett answered quietly. "We intend to make our rounds to tell those that we're closest with first."

"I'm certain the news will get around. We don't want to make a scene in front of the students. But, we do intend to mention it at the next staff meeting. It's not that far off," Albus finished.

"I'd love to be a fly on the wall when you tell Horace," Bathilda snorted. "Please, can I watch?" she joked, clasping her hands together excitedly.

"Hmm," Albus thought, "We were going to go to the Headmaster next, but maybe Horace should be the next stop."

"Do you want to handle that one alone, or do you want me there, too?" Elizabett offered her support.

The three glanced at each other, a tough decision to be made. "The Headmaster first, together, then I think it would be best if I spoke with Horace alone," Albus decided.

Elizabett nodded. "While your there, I'll go see Professor Flaurance and meet you back at the Main Entrance before dinner."

"Sounds like a plan," Bathilda approved, beaming at the couple.

x x x x x

"No, please, tell me you're joking," Horace eased himself into the oversized, sunken armchair in the front room, his left hand rising to his forehead. "Engaged? Are you under some sort of spell? Have your fun for Merlin's sake but to commit to a woman for a lifetime? Have you given leave to your senses?" Scarlett anger and bewilderment crept up Horace's neck to his cheeks as his eyes flashed at the man who stood before him.

"I thought you'd made peace with this? Elizabett told me that you went to see her after our talk," Albus seemed a bit confused.

Horace grunted his lips pursed in annoyance. "I thought that if I gave my "blessing", you would eventually tire of the wench, and come back to me."

"Watch your tongue," Albus angrily defended. "We were never involved, not the way you would have liked, but Horace," Albus lowered himself onto the gaudy, green sofa, "I did enjoy your friendship, when you weren't demanding of me, and would hate to lose it," he finished kindly.

Horace gazed up at his friend. "Are you in love with her?" he asked bluntly.

"I believe I am," Albus answered with a modest grin.

"Is there nothing I can do to change your mind?" the Potions Master stonily inquired.

"Nothing, and I hope that you wouldn't try," Albus responded compassionately but with warning.

Horace sighed deeply and tipped his balding head to rest on the back of the armchair, strands of straw-coloured hair scattering across the backrest as he stared up at the ceiling. There was a moment of silence, and then he struggled to his feet to reach for his friend's hand. "Well, if there is nothing I can do, and if this is what you truly want, then I wish you well." He took Albus' hand and gave it a squeeze. "But, I'll always be here," he added hopefully.

The two men chatted for a few minutes longer before Albus excused himself. Then, Horace sat alone in the quiet sitting room staring at the vacated seat. Love had never been an issue between them. Horace enjoyed Albus' status and reputation, but there had also been a friendship, a camaraderie. He didn't like losing his position as Albus' companion, but at least an offer of friendship remained. Still, there was an underlying mistrust of Elizabett that he couldn't put his finger on. He would keep his eyes and options open.

x x x x x

Elizabett found the Herbology teacher elbow deep in dragon dung, re-potting a new crop of Black-Spiked Lion Lilies. The black and orange plants looked more like miniature Halloween palm trees rather than traditional Tiger Lilies and had been imported from Africa after Professor Flaurance's visit there in the summer. She was fascinated with the unusual plant, and felt that it needed further investigation. Professor Slughorn had been working with her on analysing its properties.

Upon hearing Elizabett's news, Professor Flaurance hugged the Muggle Studies teacher warmly, claiming that she had seen it coming all along. They made a wonderful pair, and she was so pleased for them. When Elizabett explained that Albus was presently having a chat with Horace, the Herbology teacher chuckled, "I'd love to see that!"

Leaving the greenhouse, Elizabett pulled her cloak tightly around her and trudged up the rocky path behind the castle. Turning her head against the bitter wind and the start of more rain, she was caught off-guard by the sight of a frightened, first-year Hufflepuff dangling like a marionette several feet above the uneven trail. Running toward the youngster, she withdrew her wand, and rapidly cast a counter-spell and Cushioning Charm as the boy fell to the earth. Professor Kettleburn raced up from the Care of Magical Creatures compound to come to the boy's rescue as well.

"Are you all right? What happened? Who did this to you?" Elizabett quickly examined the child, spilling the questions out before the poor boy could answer.

"'m a'right Ma'am," he sputtered, nervously glancing around.

"Did you see who did it, son?" Professor Kettleburn demanded kindly. The boy shook his head, as the burly professor helped him to his feet. "You saw nothing?" he repeated, and the boy shook his head again, staring at his feet.

Elizabett could tell that he was frightened and was sure that it wasn't just from being left hanging. There was something more, but she wasn't willing to press the matter just yet. Escorting the boy back to the castle, Professor Kettleburn and Elizabett watched as he meandered aimlessly down the corridor.

"He's hiding something," Professor Kettleburn observed, his eyes not leaving the boy.

"I think he's afraid of telling on someone," Elizabett responded pressing her left hand to her cheek feeling the angry flush.

"I agree," the gentle professor responded turning to his colleague. "What's this?" he curiously reached for Elizabett's hand, examining her fingers, a broad smile emerging from beneath the cropped, coffee-coloured beard. "So, he's back? And this is what I call an apology for being late!" he laughed. "Congratulations. I could see this coming from last year. You know, he's harboured a crush since you arrived? When you and your friend Thomas courted last year, I don't think I've ever seen Albus so solemn. Buried himself in his work, he did. Ah, but this," he lifted her hand again, "this is truly special," he beamed.

Elizabett blushed as they continued their path to the Main Entrance.

x x x x x

A light rap sounded at the door, and Bathilda crossed the ancient living room to answer it. Pulling the door open, her questioning thoughts turned into a knowing look.

"I thought you'd come," she stated brusquely as she opened the door wider to let her guest in. "By your expression, you have something on your mind," she pressed her lips together and eyed the visitor cautiously.

"I need to speak with you about Elizabett," Albus strode into the room purposefully.

Bathilda waved him toward the sofa and reacquired her seat opposite him. "You don't have doubts already, do you? I assume you've already spoken with Horace? Does this have anything to do with him?" she coldly questioned.

Albus shook his head and took a deep breath, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "As you may know, I've been working with the Ministry and Elizabett's father trying to maintain good Wizard relations in Europe during this time of upheaval. There is a great deal of mistrust, and Gellert's influence is growing exponentially. It is suspected that he is involved with the Muggle dissention on the continent, and it may have extended to Britain as well. Elizabett knows of my work but knows nothing of my past except for recent history."

"You mean she doesn't know that you and Gellert were close?" Bathilda sat poker straight, the tension in her neck could be seen.

"She doesn't know that I know him at all…and I would like it to remain that way. Elizabett is a sweet, gentle woman, as innocent as anyone can be in this world. I do not wish her to be involved in the appalling events of the past. What is past is past. I've learned my lesson and have moved on."

Bathilda nodded slowly, not quite certain what to believe. "Do you truly consider me a friend or was that something convenient to say in front of Elizabett?"

"It's the truth. We've worked here, together, for many years and have developed, what I consider, a friendship. I have chosen to devote my life to making the Wizard world better by peaceful co-existence and think I've proven my commitment repeatedly. My beliefs do not follow Gellert's, and I would like to have Elizabett shielded from such destructive attitudes. She may investigate philosophies, but I don't want her to ever have to deal with the likes of Gellert Grindelwald."

"You don't give her much credit. Look at her history. I think she's stronger than you think," Bathilda huffed. "She's very intelligent, and I think, eventually, this information will come out. Better it be from you than anyone else…but, I promise, she won't hear a word from me."

Albus' features softened. "Thank you. I appreciate your candidness, and I know full well that someday I may have to tell her, but if I can, I'll put that day off for as long as possible."

Albus rose and headed for the door.

The older woman placed her hand gently on his sleeve. "Take care of her, Albus, or you'll have me to deal with," she twitched a slight smile, and Albus didn't know whether to take the comment as a joke or a warning. Somehow, he didn't want to take the chance. Nodding agreeably, he left the witches' wing and headed to the Main Entrance to meet his fiancé.

x x x x x

Elizabett poked her head into the Great Hall. She had always been in awe of the vastness of the room and its four, impressive, House tables and banners. Even as a student, she knew that some day, she would sit at the stately High Table. The pride that swelled in her chest was overwhelming. She had achieved her goals and so much more. She held her hand up to examine Albus' ring, her ring, in the fading sun reflecting in the enchanted ceiling. It was beautiful, simple and elegant, just like the man. She closed her eyes against the swell of tears and silently gave a simple prayer.

"_Dearest Goddess, Ruler of night,_

_Protect me and mine 'til the morning light._

_Fill me with your strength and power,_

_Stay with me 'til the brightening hour._

_Dearest Goddess, stay with me and guide my path. Protect Albus from my past. He's such a sweet man. He doesn't need to be burdened with the knowledge of deeds long since done. I'm trying to make it right. He doesn't need to know who I'm forced to protect. Dearest Goddess, I lean on you for strength. Please be with me."_

"Are you all right, Professor?" Minerva McGonagall asked as she approached from the grand stairwell.

Elizabett shook herself from her prayer and smiled at the seventh year student. "I'm fine. Did you have fun in Hogsmeade yesterday?" Minerva broke into a wide grin and nodded, a slight blush colouring her cheeks. "Ahhh," Elizabett continued astutely, "it would appear that a particular Gryffindor Seeker finally made his move?" Minerva's blush deepened. "Good for you," Elizabett reached for the girl's arm, "it's about time."

Minerva modestly ducked her head and caught sight of Elizabett's ring as the teacher held her arm "Looks like a particular Transfiguration professor has finally made his move, as well," she boldly stated taking the teacher's hand in hers, watching the diamonds sparkle. "It's beautiful."

Elizabett smiled proudly. "How did you know it was Professor Dumbledore?"

"Oh please," Minerva rolled her eyes, "the entire senior year knows, but I don't think they were expecting that quite so soon," she pointed to the ring. "We noticed that you two were friendly last year, but you're friendly with everyone, so no one thought much of it…until school came back this year, and, I don't know, things looked …different. I think it was just the way you were with each other." Minerva snorted, "Some of the boys were even taking bets on how long it will take the professor to ask you out."

Elizabett laughed lightly. "I guess all bets are off now."

The dinner bell rang, and students and staff alike made there way to the Great Hall for the evening meal. Albus met Headmaster Dippet on the first floor landing, and the two descended the steps of the main stairwell to the hall below. Horace ascended from the dungeons puffing with exertion. Professor Kettleburn was animatedly chatting with Professor Merrythought and Madam Olfield at the bottom of the stairwell. Professor Flaurance entered through the main doors with Professor Babbling eagerly listening to what was being said. Minerva excused herself to join her classmates, grabbing hold a friend's elbow, whispering, and determinedly steering her through the massive, oak doors. The whole hall was abuzz.

"Something tells me that an announcement won't be necessary," Headmaster Dippet astutely observed as he took his place at the High Table.

"I think you're right," Albus agreed as he headed for his seat.

When Elizabett moved to take her spot, she found Professor Flaurance in it wearing a broad smile, nodding to her empty place beside Albus. Elizabett took a deep breath and turned to view several other teachers grinning at her. Raising her eyes, she met Albus' who pulled out the vacant chair and silently invited her to sit. As she moved forward, the students fell silent, and as they sat, a loud cheer rang from the senior class.


	20. 20 Home For The Holidays

**20 – Home For The Holidays**

The gales of November gave way to the frosty flakes of December, leaving a thin layer of fluffy, white dust on the sodden ground. Just when the caretaker thought that the paths of mud were frozen over, a new mess emerged and was trekked through the castle halls. The poor man was often seen trying to manage several cleaning spells at the same time. He wasn't the most gifted wizard, but he was pleasant, in his simple way.

On a bright Thursday morning about half way through December, Post owls circled the rafters of the Great Hall carrying messages and parcels to anxious students below. Except for the occasional _Daily Prophet_, the staff rarely received mail at the High Table. It was delivered either to their rooms or offices, so seeing a plump, brown-speckled, horned owl determinately eyeing the professors drew a bit of attention. Spreading its wings and swooping to land with a thump in front of its target, it boldly hopped to the communal plate of toast and helped itself.

"Cheeky thing," Professor Babbling huffed as she protected her plate from the offending bird. "It seems _you_ haven't missed any meals," she poked its fat belly with her gnarled finger.

"Come here," Elizabett clucked to the messenger, and the owl hopped over, dropping its package by the cutlery. The box was long and thin; much like a wand box, and was tied with a silky, red ribbon. Elizabett tipped her head to Albus and eyed him curiously while she pulled the fastening and eased the lid from the case. Her lips instantly spread into a bright smile, and her cheeks began to flush. Nestled in the wrapping was a perfect long stem, red rose, thorns removed. Unfolding the missive, her smile faded slightly as she read.

_Dearest Elizabett,_

_I wish I'd heard the news from you instead of your parents. A teacher. It figures. They assure me that he's a perfect match and treats you with the utmost respect. If he doesn't, he'll have me to deal with. I miss you and am looking forward to seeing you and your fiancé at your parents' Yule celebration next weekend. _

_Wishing you all the happiness,_

_Your friend always,_

_Thomas_

Elizabett clasped the note to her chest, a heavy feeling shortening her breath. She had intended to write to tell him the news but could never bring herself to do it. She had loved Thomas for so long, but now understood why she could never share the more intimate feelings that he so wanted to explore with her. Her soul mate was someone else. From what her mother had told her, Thomas' relationship with Kalina seemed to be growing, but she wasn't certain that marriage was on the agenda. Elizabett hoped that with all the changes in their lives, their friendship would remain strong. Raising her eyes, she spied Albus watching her intently. Reaching out her hand, she passed him the note with a small smile. He read it, and returned it with a nod and, what seemed to be, a sigh of relief.

~~~***~~~

It was a small gathering this year. Dogma Black and his wife were always entertaining. The senior Cresswells, Merrick and Maude, arrived at the same time as Abraxas Malfoy and his wife. Their daughter, Aryanna and her husband were travelling in Europe for the holiday. There was a veiled understanding of what their business overseas was, but no one was willing to voice it. The Rosiers had not been included on the list, and Abraxas relayed that they were quite offended.

Albus was in the sitting room with the other men, discussing the latest activities in the Ministry, while the women gathered in the reception room sharing the latest family news. Maude remarked several times of her disappointment that Elizabett and Thomas's relationship hadn't gone as she had hoped. She had so wanted to have Elizabett as a daughter. But, Thomas seemed to be enthralled with "this new girl", and she reluctantly conceded that he was a grown man, and she had to accept his choice. Elizabett smiled warmly at the woman. She loved Maude almost as much as her own mother and hated to see her unhappy, but reassured her that Kalina was probably a better match.

Just before dinner was served, Thomas and Kalina arrived through the front door in a flurry of snow, stumbling in and laughing, their cheeks red with the cold. Petite accepted their cloaks and ushered them into the sitting room as the women joined the group. The doe-eyed blonde clung to Thomas' arm, grinned broadly at the gathering as she batted her long lashes adoringly at her beau. Her length of yellow hair girlishly hung down her back in ringlets and was tied with a bright green ribbon that matched her stylish robe. Thomas looked dashing in a classic black frock coat with a cravat that matched Kalina's dress. _What a pair! _Elizabett grinned as she entered the room.

"Sorry we're late," Thomas began, "I have an excuse, but I have no intention of telling it." He smirked as Kalina hid her face in his sleeve, giggling.

Maude rolled her eyes and sighed, giving Elizabett an exasperated, "why couldn't it be you?" look.

"Welcome to our home," Marceilla graciously offered her hand to the young woman before making introductions.

"Thank you so much," Kalina gushed. "Tommy has told me so much about all of you. I feel like I know you already." She shook several presented hands. "You're Albus Dumbledore," Kalina gazing in awe at the older man who tried to blend into the background. "I've heard about you. My uncle has spoken of you often. Wow, it's a pleasure to meet you." She grasped his hand with both of hers, holding on tight.

He smiled genially giving her hand a gentle squeeze before trying to pry it loose.

"Kalina was tutored abroad. Her parents travelled extensively. She never went to a regular school like Hogwarts," Thomas explained, then stopped, spinning his head to Elizabett. "Hogwarts," he repeated. "A teacher. Good Gods, you're kidding!" He turned his head back and forth between Albus and Elizabett.

There was silence in the room as Elizabett moved away from the women to stand beside her fiancé. Although her parents had told people that Elizabett was engaged, it had not been publicly announced to whom. That was going to be done tonight.

"What? Did I miss something?" Kalina cluelessly asked.

"Hmm, this isn't going as planned," Albus smirked as Elizabett slipped her hand through the crook of his arm, shaking her head with a demure smile.

A year ago, this group had toasted the courtship of Thomas and Elizabett, cheering a new generation to come. Now, the circle stood in silent anticipation as the two couples stood face to face.

"Thomas," Elizabett cleared her throat, "This is Albus, my fiancé."

Thomas straightened and gallantly reached for the older man's hand, shaking it firmly. "Who would have thought?" he shook his head with a smile, "I didn't stand a chance. Congratulations," he said, "You've got a great girl there. Take care of her."

"I intend to," Albus returned the grip with a cautious smile.

"So, when's the wedding?" Thomas jovially asked, tightening his left arm around his girlfriend's shoulders.

Elizabett looked around the room, spying her parents. They had asked the same question, and Elizabett has skirted the answer. She and Albus had planned to announce the date at dinner. But, glancing up at Albus and sharing a nod, it was Albus who proclaimed, "The Spring Equinox, Ostara."

"So soon?" Maude cried in half astonishment, half disappointment.

"It will be relatively small. I think it can be put together in three months," Elizabett explained, beaming at her mother who smiled back.

~~~***~~~

Dinner was wonderful. Petite had outdone herself with the Rice and Sausage Stuffing and Chocolate Trifle. Talk revolved around courtships and wedding plans, past and present as some recalled their younger days. Kalina delighted in hearing about "Tommy's" childhood, and Elizabett chuckled to herself as Maude turned her head away every time Kalina tried to feed him.

Afterward, as the group moved into the sitting room, Kalina grabbed Thomas' arm under the mistletoe and spun him around, looking up at the greenery with a playful grin. Thomas roguishly wrapped his right arm around her waist and pulled her close, planting an amorous, wet kiss on her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, not letting go, as the rest of the group politely acknowledged the pair and continued into the other room.

"Goodness," Maude drew her left hand to her flushed cheek as she sank into the love seat, "they're so…physical. Thomas was never like that with you, was he?" she asked Elizabett. "We never saw it. It's embarrassing." She glanced around the room. The men had gathered on the other side enjoying their conversation and brandy.

"He tried," Elizabett confessed with a guilty expression. She didn't want to tell tales on Thomas, but his randy behaviour had become more evident as time went on. "It's probably part of what broke us apart. That, and he was seeing both Kalina and me at the same time. I wouldn't give in, and I guess she did. But, look," she nodded toward the door, the pair still not having entered, "They're obviously made for each other."

Maude snorted, "If they could unhinge themselves from each other, maybe the rest of us could see."

The men joined the women in a circle, and Elizabett shifted on the sofa for Albus to sit. As he did, he took her hand and drew it to his lips for a tender kiss. His smile could melt the frostiest night, and she felt like the luckiest woman in the world to have this man.

Thomas and Kalina finally stumbled into the sitting room, lips swollen and hair slightly dishevelled.

"Thank you for dinner, Marceilla, Julius," Thomas nodded to his hosts, slightly out of breath as Kalina clung to his waist with a naughty grin, "But, we're going to be off. Early rise, you know," he wrapped his arm around the girl's shoulders to steer her out the door. "Congrats again you two," he called over his shoulder. "Make sure I'm invited."

And with that, they abruptly stepped into the Floo, without their cloaks, entangled in each other again, and disappeared.

There was silence for a few embarrassed moments as Merrick and Maude watched their son leave. But, it was shattered by the sudden laughing snort from Dogma.

"Early rise??!!" he blasted heartily. "I think we all know what arose! No offence ladies," he tried to control his laughter, but by now the others had joined in.

~~~***~~~

As the evening wore on, the guests slowly excused themselves, heading back to their warm homes. Further congratulations preceded each "good bye", and the group communally sent each couple on their way. Once the last couple left, Marceilla and Julius returned to the sitting room while Elizabett and Albus remained in the foyer. Pulling her into the center on the room, Albus tipped his head to glance at the decorated chandelier. His lips twitched upward as his eyes twinkled.

"My performance may pale in comparison to Thomas'," he smirked as he drew Elizabett into a loving kiss.

Slowly, her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands inching their way up his back. "Never," she moaned as their lips gently brushed.

Slow and tiny encounters grew into deeper more heartfelt kisses. Then, bringing their heads back to gaze at each other, they smiled and suddenly noticed Marceilla and Julius watching from the doorway. They looked at each other again, and Albus playfully dipped Elizabett backward over his left arm, sweeping his right arm back and planting a noisy, messy kiss on her cheek. Julius and Marcella laughed and applauded the display as their daughter was brought back to her feet and steadied.

"I don't need to put of Locking Charm on Elizabett's room tonight, do I?" Julius half-joked as the pair joined the parents.

"I am an honourable man, Sir. I would not dishonour your family," Albus bowed politely with a small smile. "Never would I consider such an indiscretion."

"I'm sure," Julius clapped Albus' shoulder kindly, and leaned to kiss his daughter "good night". "We're off to bed. See you in the morning."

Marceilla gave her daughter a quick hug and nodded to Albus, and the Castlewoods climbed the stairs to their room above. As they disappeared up the second flight, Elizabett wrapped her arms around Albus' waist again and pulled him close. "Would never consider such an indiscretion?" she grinned mischievously.

"I'm serious," he gave her a peck on the tip of the nose while debating whether to unwrap her arms from his waist or encompass her in his. "This is your parents' home. You are their daughter. I will not entertain such thoughts."

Elizabett sighed in mock defeat. "I understand. I think we've shown remarkable restraint since…"

"Shhh," Albus silenced her with a kiss, "my restraint may crumble."

~~~***~~~

Diagon Alley was bustling in the last days before Christmas, and Albus manoeuvred through the crowd on his way to his final destination. Most of his shopping was done, but there were a few items on order that had not arrived yet, and he was getting anxious. It was Christmas Eve, and he was due back at the Castlewoods that evening, having taken his leave the morning after the party. An invitation to spend Christmas with Elizabett's family had been too much to pass up, and he was delighted to be included. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent time with a family for the holidays. He usually remained at Hogwarts.

The tiny bell jingled merrily as Albus entered the shop. The place was nearly empty, much to his surprise, and he found the proprietor digging through piles of boxes, wand out, magically sorting more merchandize onto shelves.

"Ah, Mr. Dumbledore," he said cheerily, putting the last item up. "Your package arrived yesterday. I was hoping you'd show up."

"I've been pre-occupied," Albus lowered the hood of his cloak and dusted off the snow as the shopkeeper scurried into the back room to procure a flat box. "Was it as difficult to obtain as you anticipated?" Albus called.

"Surprisingly, no," the aged, little wizard straightened his round spectacles on his pointy nose as he returned. "Although I deal with rare items, my contact had two in his possession. We were lucky. I also have your other item ready for delivery. It arrived this morning." He pulled second package from under the battered counter. "Is it to your liking?" the shopkeeper asked as he watched Albus attentively inspect the first item.

Albus nodded, a small smile twitching on his lips. "Indeed," he replied satisfactorily pulling a small, cloth pouch from the inside pocket of his dark grey, woollen cloak. Two Galleons, six sickles and four knuts were a bit more than he had anticipated, but it was worth it.

"Shall I forward this item to the usual recipient?" the shopkeeper asked holding up the second package.

Albus nodded again. Every year, he sent the same present to the same person. It was the least he could do after so many years. It was never acknowledged. He was never thanked, but he sent it anyway without fail.

The shopkeeper wrapped the first package in common, brown paper, and Albus tucked it under his arm as he left the shop. Now, he could return to the comfort of the Castlewoods.

~~~***~~~

Julius had been out on an errand, but now stood in the foyer outside the sitting room door listening to the couple inside, his temper rising with every word.

"Mmmm, that feels so good," Elizabett murmured. "You have such magical hands."

"Is this alright?" Albus inquired quietly, "I take that as a "yes"," he replied to Elizabett's throaty groan.

"Oh, yes," Elizabett repeated. "Ouch!" she suddenly yelped.

"A little too hard?" Albus asked.

"A bit," Elizabett whispered.

"What if I do this?" Albus posed. "Better?"

"Much," Elizabett sighed. "Your skill with the wand is most impressive, Sir. You can do _that_ to me anytime."

"Not under my roof," Julius angrily burst in, his wand drawn on Albus.

Albus was kneeling on the floor before the armchair, his wand aimed at Elizabett, a shocked expression on his face as Julius entered. Elizabett's head spun in her father's direction from her reclined position in the chair, the hem of her skirt raised above her knees.

"Back away from my daughter," Julius ordered, directing Albus to move, with his wand. "You gave me your word. Claimed you would not dishonour this family!"

Albus shifted back without hesitation, the couple stunned into silence.

"Julius, darling," Marceilla raced to her husband from the reception room, "what's going on? Oh, Petite," she addressed the little elf, "give that to Professor Dumbledore."

Petite approached the shaken professor with a ream of soft cloth.

"What's going on?" Julius sputtered in amazement to his wife. "With your mother here?" he gazed harshly at Elizabett. "I heard them. Just look! He's on his knees! Her robe is raised! Merlin help me!" he brought his hand to his forehead tipping his head back. "I let this man into my home. I trusted him."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Marceilla approached her daughter, handing her a small glass of liquid. "Drink it all, dear. It will help."

Elizabett took the glass and downed the light green potion, feeling a warmth spread through her limbs. She looked at her fiancé who was still kneeling on the floor a good two feet away. Then, she raised her eyes to her father and started to giggle.

"I don't see the humour in this. It's disgraceful! You may be a grown woman, but…" Julius replied indignantly to his daughter's impertinence.

"Oh, Gods, Father!" she laughed. "What you must have heard!" She looked at Albus who didn't know how to respond. "Think. What was I saying? How it must have sounded!" She brought her hands to her mouth, shaking with mirth.

Abus smiled and lowered his head to chuckle, beginning to see the humour. Rising to his feet, he extended his hand to Julius who eyed him suspiciously. "I took Elizabett for a ride on my broom," he began. "It's not something I use often anymore, but thought with the new snow, it would be fun. She was sitting behind me holding on, but we landed hard, and she slid off. I'm afraid she sprained her ankle quite badly. I was merely fixing it." His eyes began their merry twinkle.

"And what did _you_ think was going on?" Marceilla asked her husband sharply giving him a swat across the shoulder.

"Broom? Sprained ankle?" Julius sputtered with embarrassment. "Oh, dear. Please accept my apologies," he sheepishly extended his hand to the younger man. "But as Elizabett said, it did sound rather …provocative."

Albus accepted Julius' hand and apology with a smile and returned his attention to Elizabett, wrapping the soft cloth around her swollen ankle. "How does it feel now?" he asked.

"As I said before, you are a master of that wand. I think I could dance all night."

"Not tonight. Maybe New Year's," Albus replied with a grin.

~~~***~~~

Christmas day broke with bright sunshine, a wonderful smell of fresh ground coffee and bacon wafting through the house. Albus lay in his bed, staring up at the pristine, white ceiling, an odd tingle in his stomach. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent Christmas with anyone outside of Hogwarts. He rolled onto his side twisting in his pale blue flannel nightshirt and stared at the door. He couldn't hear if anyone else was up and didn't want to be the first. He could just wait, or he could get up and dress. A light knock on the door made his decision easy. He threw back the warm covers and padded barefoot across the floor to see who was there. Opening the door a crack, he spied Elizabett looking radiant in a navy robe with white edging. The collar was discretely high and suitable for winter, the sleeves were long and narrow, and the bodice fit her curves perfectly. Albus sighed heavily to her stunning smile, leaning his tousled head against the doorframe, the tingle in his stomach intensifying.

"What a vision you are to wake up to," he breathed lightly.

She curtseyed good-naturedly. "Thank you, Sir. Breakfast will be ready shortly," then leaning a little closer, she whispered playfully, "I had Petite make crumpets."

Albus' dreamy smile broadened into a beaming grin. "Give me five minutes." He backed into the room, closed the door, and dashed to get dressed.

After breakfast, the family moved into the sitting room to open gifts. The pile wasn't huge under the beautifully decorated pine tree, but Elizabett sat beside it anxious to begin distributing the packages. Julius presented Marceilla with a new winter cloak, black velvet with white fur trim around the hood and down the closure, a black muff to match. Marceilla's gift to Julius was a new smoking jacket with matching cravat, black on black with silver trim. Elizabett presented her parents with a musical orb of _Classical Music _

_To Soothe a Magical Heart_ and a bottle of their favourite Elf wine. Elizabett received a new quill set from her parents, Hippogriff feather with dragon scale tip, and a new package of elegant writing parchment. Albus and Julius laughed as they exchanged the same brand of fine French brandy.

"So, we share the same taste in good drink," Julius laughed as Marceilla opened her present from Albus, a finely woven black and burgundy shawl.

When the family gift-giving was over, Julius and Marceilla gathered their daughter warmly into a hug, and Marceilla reached her hand to Albus, drawing him into their circle. Wrapping his arms around the trio, he could feel the love emanate from them, and he leaned his face onto the top of Elizabett's head. He was apart of something special and didn't want anyone to see the tears beginning to form. But, somehow, Elizabett sensed his discomfort and lightened the mood. Kissing him tenderly on the cheek, she pulled away from the family hold and knelt back down under the tree.

"Your turn," she beamed at her love handing him a brightly wrapped gift.

He tore it open like a little boy, not saving the paper, and gazed at the leather-bound tome in his hands, _Alchemy Through The Ages_, an original edition. He swallowed hard. "This is impossible to get!" His eyes sparkled. "Where did you find it?"

"Never you mind," Elizabett beamed as she handed him another gift.

"More?" his eyes widened in surprise.

Elizabett grinned as she nodded, watching him open a package containing an odd gadget claiming to be a planetary alignment calculator, "great for stargazers of all ages" it boasted, and finally a squishy package containing a pair of grey and red wool socks. Elizabett giggled, watching his expression as he opened it. He had made a passing comment a month ago about his feet always being cold.

"You remembered," he muttered fingering the soft wool. "I can't believe you remembered." He reached to hug his future wife, blessing her kindness and gentle heart.

"Now for you," he shifted under the tree, reaching for his package.

Handing her the gift, he sat back to watch. She gingerly pulled the ends of the paper, carefully removing it from the box, and placing it on the sofa.

"She's always been like that. Takes her forever to unwrap things," Marceilla chuckled as she and Julius watched, "Hates to ruin anything beautiful."

Lifting the lid from the box, Elizabett uncovered a crimson and black silk scarf, and tucked inside was a small, silver broach of the full moon. Elizabett reached for her husband-to-be and wrapped her arms around his neck. "They're beautiful," she whispered into his ear as he returned the hug.

"Ah, but that's not all," he pulled another package from under the tree and handed it to his fiancé.

Elizabett eyed the wrapping strangely but smiled politely, carefully removing the common, brown paper from the gift. Her eyes widened, and a stunning smile spread across her face as she unfolded the last piece. "You do realize that now you'll have to read to me," she stroked her hand across the smooth surface of a perfectly intact, first edition copy of Robert Browning's _Dramatic Romances and Lyrics, 1845._

"Gladly," Albus beamed.


	21. 21 Surprise Visitors

**21 – Surprise Visitors**

Hogsmeade was silent in the early evening, looking very much like a village in a Charles Dickens novel. Snow covered the nearly abandoned street, and clung like white icing to rooftops. A light dusting floated in the air, and the dim, winter sun sank into the horizon as the street lamps were magically beginning to glow. Albus had excused himself from the Castlewoods' to return to Hogwarts for the few days between Christmas and New Year's. He wanted to give the family some privacy, and there were some errands that needed to be attended to, a few plans to be made. Trudging his way to the quiet east side of the village, he knocked the fresh snow from his shoulders as he pushed the heavy, wooden door of the tavern open, making his way into the dark, musty room. The few, ratty patrons that sat at the small, square tables curiously gazed up at the newcomer as he eased himself onto a stool at the grimy counter. The bartender eyed Albus with obvious dislike, but moved to place a short glass in front of him, pulling a bottle of cheap firewhiskey from the dusty shelf. There was silence for a moment before Albus finally spoke.

"I hope you had a pleasant Christmas," Albus casually commented as the barkeep silently uncorked the bottle and prepared to pour the liquor. "I'm getting married," he quietly continued as he fingered the glass watching the other man's reaction. The barkeep stopped, holding the half full bottle in his left hand, his blue eyes piercing Albus intently. "She's a teacher at the school," he finished.

The bartender huffed and re-corked the un-poured whiskey bottle, returning it to the shelf. Striding to a locked cupboard at the end of the bar, he withdrew his wand and cast a spell. Pausing for a moment, he reached in to pull out a fresh bottle, a rare brand, something difficult to get. Returning to the professor, he wordlessly uncorked it and poured him a glass. Albus' heart was heavy as he watched the man. He wished things were different. Maybe one day they would be. As he lifted the glass, the bartender pulled another from under the counter and poured himself a drink. The two men raised their glasses, nodded silently to each other, and downed the smooth liquor.

"She a lovely girl, Aberforth. "I hope that one day you'll meet her," Albus commented to the man's back as he turned to continue wiping the glasses behind the battered counter.

~~~***~~~

Thomas paced outside the front door of Castlewood Manor. He hadn't called. He didn't even know if she was still there. But, he needed to see her again. Raising his hand to knock, the door swung open, and a diminutive elf stood before him, waiting.

"Is Mistress Elizabett in?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Master Thomas," Petite bobbed her head, ushering the young man in, and closing the door behind him. With a snap of her fingers, she disappeared, leaving Thomas standing alone in the foyer. A moment later, Elizabett appeared at the top of the landing looking radiant in a classic black, winter robe, her hair ribboned back in a casual, low ponytail. She smiled at her friend and quickly descended the stairs, reaching for his hands and leaning to give him a peck on the cheek.

"What brings you here on this blustery day?" she beamed.

Thomas shifted uncomfortably; looking down at his shoes, then taking a deep breath, looked her directly in the eyes. "I needed to speak with you."

"About?" Elizabett's eyebrows rose with a questioning smile.

"Not here," he looked around uneasily. "A walk maybe?"

"My parents are out. We have the house to ourselves." Elizabett led him into the sitting room. Taking opposite chairs, she raised her eyebrows again. "This is about…?"

Thomas leaned onto his knees, gazing at his laced fingers, then raising his head, he plunged forward. "It's about your quick engagement. About how much older he is than you. About when you started to see each other. About how fast you intend to marry. Geez, Lizzie, we courted for months, we've been friends forever, and you didn't even let me know?" The hurt was obvious in his voice. "Do you have any idea how awkward it was at Yule?"

Elizabett could see the pain in his face. How many times had she started to write to him but could never bring herself to send the letters. She had talked herself into thinking that he wouldn't care. He had someone new.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Thomas. I truly am. My friendship with Albus began shortly after I arrived at Hogwarts, but we were never more than friends, colleagues. I always questioned why I couldn't give myself to you as you wanted. There was always something at the back of my head stopping me. I loved you. I still do, but, not in the romantic fashion of lovers."

"It's different with him?" Thomas sat straight, leaning back in the chair, his emerald eyes shimmering at her.

"Albus and I didn't acknowledge our attraction to each other until after Easter break, after you made it clear that you had found someone else. From there, things became so clear." Elizabett twitched a small smile and shook her head at the memory. "It may seem that the engagement is quick, but when you think about it, we see each other every day. We live a similar life, our experiences parallel. I don't care how much older he is than me. It doesn't matter. He's a sweet man, kind and considerate." There was a moment of silence as Thomas gazed down at his fingers processing the information. "Why do you question my relationship?" Elizabett finally asked. "You seem to enjoy Kalina's company so well."

Thomas tipped his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes, a sad look crossing his face. "I just wanted to understand. I just want you to be happy." His lips twitched upward in the left corner. "I have to go," his eyes shot open. and he suddenly rose to his feet. "I'm meeting Kalina in Diagon Alley." He moved to the door with Elizabett following behind.

"Thomas," Elizabett reached her hand to gently grasp his sleeve, stopping him before he stepped out. "I hope we'll always be friends, no matter what happen. Kalina seems to be a wonderful girl, full of life and spirit."

Thomas leaned forward to tenderly kiss Elizabett on the cheek, moving his lips to her ear. "But, she's not you," he barely uttered above a whisper. "There's no one like you."

Pulling back, he opened the door and was suddenly gone, leaving Elizabett struggling for breath as her heart pounded hard in her chest.

~~~***~~~

The old man paced his study, glancing at the grandfather clock as its heavy tick resonated off the tapestried and book-lined walls. Shelves upon shelves of ancient texts and scrolls gave testament to the man and his work. He glanced up as the clock struck six. Dinner would be served at eight, but he had hoped to visit with his guests for a while before hand. He had things to discuss, ideas to be shared.

An elderly woman shuffled into the room, "tsking" at the impatient, old man. "They'll get here when they get here." She shook her head at him, absently straightening the bright, crocheted blanket that lay across the back of a heavy, dark leather chair. "Watching the pot won't make it boil any faster."

He looked up at his wife and smiled. Of their nearly six hundred years of marriage, she never failed to have an aphorism for him. "If this woman has captured Albus' heart, I'm very anxious to meet her. He has slowed in his research and hasn't visited as often. He doesn't seem to have lost focus, but she has drawn his attention elsewhere."

"Does this worry you?" his wife stopped puttering.

"No," he shook his head, "This is a good thing. Albus claims that she's special, has unique talents. He senses a strong Earth magic in her, and she is apparently quite adept with wandless magic."

"Really?" Perenelle questioned with interest, absently refolding the blanket. "Does he think this can help him?"

"Possibly. Another reason I'm anxious to meet her. I want to see them together. The combination of powers may be interesting."

The sound of the Floo activating startled the old man, and he backed away from the hearth. Green flames emerged, and a couple stepped into the study, careful not to knock the soot from their clothes onto the antique, Persian carpet.

The young woman laughed lightly as she drew her wand to cast a cleaning spell. "And you promised me dancing…" she said cheerily, removing the soot from both of them.

"I'm afraid you know what sort of dancer I am, or more precisely, am not," Albus chuckled as he turned to greet their hosts.

"Welcome to our home," the old man spread his arms to gather Albus into a friendly hug complete with a typically Parisian, two-cheek kiss. He, then, moved to greet Elizabett with the same familiarity. "My dear, you are as lovely as Albus claimed." His wizened face was soft against her cheek.

"Elizabett," Albus took her hand, "I would like to introduce a dear friend, Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle."

Elizabett reached her hand to the ancient alchemist. "It is not only a pleasure to finally meet you but an honour, as well. Albus wouldn't give specifics of who you were."

"And you never asked?" Nicholas inquired curiously.

"I trust Albus. If he wanted me to know, then he would have told me. I figured there was a reason for the secrecy. Now, I understand."

"She's a jewel, Albus," Nicholas clapped the other man's shoulder. "Come. A drink?" The older man ushered the pair to the small sidebar where Perenelle poured an aperitif.

"Was your trip pleasurable?" he took a sip of the sweet liquid as he turned toward Elizabett.

"Interesting," she replied to their inquiring looks. "Albus only said that we were coming to visit you but didn't tell me where you lived. I assumed it was London, but I'm quite certain I'm wrong. The Floo had a long gap at one point. We're in Europe, but not too far. The Floo doesn't travel great distances overseas. I'd say by the greeting that we're in France, or maybe Brussels."

"Very good," Nicholas grinned. "Bordeaux, to be exact. According to Muggle history books, I died in 1418. We could no longer live in our home in Paris, so we moved to a small village south of Bordeaux. Fabulous wine country." He gave her a wink.

"Why stay in France at all? You could have gone anywhere," Elizabett innocently asked.

"And abandon France? Never," he feigned appal. "We have travelled, but this is our home." He spread his arms, referring to the country. "We could never leave."

During dinner, Perenelle played the perfect hostess explaining that they rarely received visitors, and this was a special treat. The conversation ranged from the Flamel's life in seclusion to their entertainment with Nicholas' Muggle success after his "passing" ("foolish Muggles", he had chided) to Albus' experiment and amused curiosity with dragon's blood to Elizabett's dexterity in Herbology and interesting ability with Earth magic. Nicholas seemed particularly intrigued in the strength of her skill, which Elizabett downplayed with modesty. "It seems to get stronger with each generation," she claimed with an indifferent shrug as Nicholas gave Albus a meaningful look.

There was an invitation to spend the night, and as Perenell gave Elizabett a tour of the house and showed her the bedrooms on the second floor, the men ambled into the study with an after-dinner cognac.

"I see your attraction," Nicholas sank into the leather armchair. "Ahh, to be six hundred years younger," he chuckled at his own observation. "She's utterly charming."

Albus smiled. "Beauty, charm, intelligence, and a kind and patient heart. I consider myself truly lucky."

"And her abilities have nothing to do with it?" Nicholas smiled shrewdly.

"Not really. She inspires me with her honesty and forthright manner." Albus sipped his drink.

Nicholas gazed at him steadily. "But the next generation, and the one after that…"

"I hope that need does not arise," the younger man clearly stated.

"I hope you're right, but your association with a particular European wizard may warrant that possibility. Does she know?"

"No, and I intend to keep it that way." Albus eyed his friend firmly.

Nicholas nodded in agreement and changed the subject. "So, how's the experiment going?"

It was nearly midnight when the women finally interrupted the men, and when the clock struck the hour, the two couples toasted in a New Year. Nineteen thirty-nine. A tense year ahead for Europe, and they all knew it. Still, the four friends raised their glasses to a hopeful future and bright blessings were given for a happy marriage.

Albus and Nicholas secluded themselves in the study the following day. They had some ideas that needed "hashing out", as Albus put it.

Perenelle laughed at the men, and rolled her eyes at Elizabett. "They do this all the time. Best find something to do. It may be a while," she advised.

Elizabett had breakfast with Perenelle, and then excused herself for the day. Grandmaman Lestrange was just a blink away. She intended to pay a surprise visit on the old woman. Perenelle understood and clasped Elizabett's arm amiably, sending her on her way.

~~~***~~~

Le Mistral blew off the Mediterranean Sea; a cold, dry wind that would blow for days. Unlike Bordeaux on the Atlantic, which was cold and had a dusting of snow, Juan Les Pins, didn't have the same bite of winter, even with the wind. There was no snow, and the dry air, although chill, felt pleasant.

Elizabett had Apparated to the small cluster of trees at the base of a knoll behind her grandmother's home. Climbing the hill, the brisk wind whipped her cloak around her, knocking the hood down, and spinning her long hair in the air. Elizabett smiled. She loved the feel of the wind. It refreshed her, gave her strength. She felt empowered. As she approached the ancient, stone cottage the skin on her arms prickled, and an uneasy feeling crept up her spine. Something was not right. Climbing the old, wooden steps to the blackened, front door, Elizabett paused, absorbing the sensations. She could hear voices inside, and they sounded calm, but the uncomfortable feeling persisted. Knocking, the voices in the room fell silent, and Elizabett could hear shuffling across the floor. The door opened a crack, and Grandmaman Lestrange poked her nose out.

"Elizabett," she nervously glanced back into the house, "This is a surprise."

"Is everything alright, Grandmaman? I sense something wrong," Elizabett lowered her voice to the old woman.

"What could possibly be wrong?" Axius drew the door open exposing the interior of the cottage, smiling pleasantly at his cousin.

Elizabett gazed questioningly at her grandmother.

"What could possibly be wrong?" the old woman echoed with a feeble smile.

"I was visiting a friend in Bordeaux and thought I'd stop in for a quick visit with you." Elizabett stepped toward the door. "Are you sure everything is all right?" she leaned toward her grandmother.

"Of course, it is," a tall, blond man stepped behind Axius. "It's a pleasure to see you again," he tipped his head toward the young woman. "You are going to invite her in, aren't you?" he clapped his hand on Axius' shoulder.

The dark man drew a slow, uneasy breath and watched his cousin carefully, as if willing her to go away, but the blond reached past him, ushering her into the house.

Elizabett took her grandmother's elbow protectively, and the two entered, closing the door against the unremitting wind. "How is your family, Axius? The children must be on their own by now." Elizabett began conversationally as she eased her grandmother into the rocker and sat in a chair by her side.

"All are gone but one," Axius moved directly opposite the women. "I hear that you're engaged," he tried to sound casual. "Someone you work with?"

Elizabett twitched a smile and nodded, giving her grandmother's hand a squeeze, "Just like you predicted," she said lowly.

"Gellert and I were just here to check on Grandmaman," Axius took a breath and looked at the blond.

"How kind of you," Elizabett twitched a false smile at the two. "Will you be staying long?"

"No, we were just getting ready to leave." Her cousin rose and reached for the old woman's hand, kissing the back of it lightly.

Elizabett rose to escort the men to the door. Opening it, a gust of wind wrapped around them, pulling them out.

"Axius," Grandmaman Lestrange called drawing the dark man back inside, leaving Elizabett alone on the porch with her malevolent nemesis.

Gellert stared out at the cold waves. "Engaged," he quietly observed. "Lucky man. A teacher from what I hear. From Hogwarts." He turned to leer at the young woman, a wicked glint in his eyes. "How does he make you feel?"

Elizabett could sense his attempt at overpowering her. A silent _Legilimens_ had been cast, but she had been prepared, blocking his efforts.

"Well done," he praised softly, casually stepping toward her. She refused to retreat, boldly holding her ground. "Tell me," he whispered as he tipped his head to her ear, his nose lightly brushing her cheek. "Have you allowed him to touch you? I heard you had difficulty with our last beau. You never seemed to have trouble with me," he breathed menacingly.

Elizabett felt the bile rise in her throat, but still, she resisted his power. Raising her face to meet his, their eyes locked, and she coolly replied. "At least he doesn't need to use _Imperio_."

The two studied each other for a moment, his amusement, and her revulsion, both clear. The cottage door swung open, and Axius re-emerged tucking something into the pocket of his cloak. Gellert stepped back from Elizabett and descended the steps carefully, nodding to his colleague, and tipping his head in departure to Elizabett. She stood on the front balcony watching them leave, remaining alert for several minutes after they Disapparated, trying to shake off the memory of her past. The wind wrapped around her again like a comforting blanket, and the sound of the waves on the shore soothed her tense nerves. What had they really been doing here? She was quite certain her grandmother wouldn't tell…if she was even allowed to remember the incident. Elizabett turned to re-enter the cottage, finding her grandmother sitting in her rocker by a blazing fire, humming softly to herself. Cautiously approaching the woman, Elizabett eased herself into the wooden chair. There was silence, and she began to worry. What had Axius done? Surely, he wouldn't have harmed her.

Turning her head to gaze at the young woman by her side, the old woman reached to give Elizabett's hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm stronger than you think, cherie." She twitched a small smile. "Axius may follow that man, but he will not betray me. Have faith in family." There was silence for a moment, and the old woman flipped Elizabett's palm up, gazing at the lines. "So," she chuckled lightly, "You're here with the man who has captured your heart. When do I get to meet him?"


	22. 22 Making Plans

**22 - Making Plans**

"… And McLaggen is on the defence. Bones has the quaffle and is heading for the Gryffindor goal posts. McLaggen is in the way, and…oh… Bones loses the ball. Gryffindor is charging the Hufflepuff goal, but the Hufflepuff Chasers are close on their tail. Longbottom is circling high above the field. I think he…yes…he sees it. Longbottom is in a nosedive. He sees the snitch, and…great catch!! Gryffindor wins. It's over! One hundred and ninety to seventy. Good game guys!"

The crowd was on their feet cheering as the seventh-year Gryffindor Seeker eased his broom to the ground, the Golden Snitch clasped proudly in his hand. It had been an action-packed game, and the throng had nearly gone hoarse from yelling. There would be a party in the Gryffindor Common Room tonight.

As the teams faced each other for the final handshake, the crowd began to descend from the stands. Albus had missed the game. Elizabett had held his seat in the teachers' stand, but he never showed. _Lost in his work again_, she sighed to herself. It happened from time to time, but she had known this about him before the engagement. She shouldn't let it bother her. As she gathered her lap blanket and pulled her cloak tightly against the bitter February wind, she followed her colleagues down the steps.

"Get used to it," Horace snickered as he trailed Elizabett's path. "It will only get worse as he gets used to your presence. He knows you'll be there waiting, like a puppy waiting for a treat." He watched for any sign of annoyance.

"Bugger off, you jealous old walrus," Bathilda grabbed hold of Elizabett's elbow and steered her away from the bitter Potions Master. "Don't you worry, dear. I'm sure he simply lost track of time."

Elizabett snorted a disappointed laugh at her friend. "I'm sure he has. He's been talking about a new theory for the past month, but nothing has developed. I guess it finally took hold."

"Still bothers you, though. I can tell," Bathilda pattered her arm kindly as they hiked the icy path to the castle.

"I'd have to be made of stone if it didn't. He said he'd be here. We were looking forward to the game. Our rival Houses," she chuckled sadly. "But, his research is important to him, too, and I have to respect that," Elizabett reasoned.

"You can join me in Hogsmeade this afternoon, if you like," Professor Kettleburn invited as he met the women on the path.

"No, thank you," Elizabett smiled at her scruffy colleague. "I have some work to do, and with any luck, Albus will make an appearance." She crossed her fingers, and then crossed her arms over her chest making a third X which made her friends laughed.

"If you change your mind, I'm leaving at two," he called over his shoulder as he lumbered back to his hut.

Bathilda and Elizabett silently trudge over the packed snow watching the excited students return to their domains. _It __had__ been a good game,_ Elizabett smiled to herself. Quidditch had never been an interest when she was a student, but since her arrival at the school as a teacher, she had come to enjoy the precision and competition. She watched as Minerva and her Seeker beau cuddled against the cold as they headed back to the castle. Her smile was radiant, and her brown eyes sparkled. Quickly scanning the crowd, their eyes met, and she beamed at Elizabett who grinned at the young woman giving her an approving nod.

~~~***~~~

The afternoon passed slowly, and Elizabett took her time correcting the latest class essay: _My Impression Of Muggle Valentines Day_. With Valentines approaching the following week, she thought it would be a fun and easy exercise. The only way to fail was to not do the assignment or not put in any effort. It made no difference whether you were Muggle or Wizard. When it can to matters of the heart, the results were the same.

Elizabett glanced at the clock. It was almost dinner, and Albus still had not emerged. Maybe she should have gone to Hogsmeade after all. She and Albus had met last night to work on wedding plans, but the evening had not been as enjoyable as she had hoped. It took quite a bit of effort to get him to contribution. Every time she asked for his input, he would simply reply, "Whatever you want." She had become frustrated, and the mood became tense. Although he wasn't being contrary, he had not been altogether co-operative either. They finally decided on the location, the small chapel on the opposite side of the lake on Hogwarts' grounds, and the guest list had been finalized. The invitations were chosen, and Elizabett had agreed to get them ready for the post. Most decisions had been made, but there were a few minor ones left.

Taking a short break, Elizabett had retreated to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. Albus eased himself back in the dark armchair and drifted in thought, scratching notes onto a small piece of parchment on his lap. While she waited for the kettle to boil, Albus abruptly rose and quickly excused himself. Surprised at the distracted dismissal and lack of interest in the planning, Elizabett tersely removed the kettle from the heat placing it heavily on the counter and fumed through her quarters. He could be so frustrating! Irritably gathering the pieces of parchment that they had been working on from the coffee table, her foul mood began to dissolve as she gazed at his notes. Very little was written down, but small hearts were drawn in the upper right corner of the page around the words, _Missus Dumbledore _and_ my wife_. Further down the page, in his characteristic, scratchy script was what she could only assume were ideas for his experiment. The bottom part of the page was torn off. Since their visit with Nicholas, Albus had been preoccupied with a new hypothesis, but was having difficulty putting all the pieces together. She knew that he would keep mulling it over until it started to take shape, so when he left her chamber, she assumed that he was either heading to his rooms or was on his way to the lab. At the match the following day, Professor Merrythought had confirmed her suspicions. Albus had been seen heading for the dungeons. _If he's still there,_ _Horace must be delighted,_ she smirked.

Albus didn't show up for dinner that evening or for breakfast or lunch the next day, and Horace was beside himself with smug satisfaction. Elizabett tried to ignore the pompous co-worker and cut her meal short, claiming more wedding plans to prepare. That announcement wiped the smile from his face, but made Elizabett feel worse. She was torn between being supportive of Albus' work and her desire to speak with him. The wedding was just over a month away.

~~~***~~~

The snow crunch pleasantly under foot as she made her way around the lake to visit the chapel. She had to get out of the castle for a while, and although it was a dull day, the weather was mild, and there was almost no breeze. Walking the path on the east side that overlooked the Forbidden Forest, Elizabett spied the giant squid as it flipped a slimy tentacle out of the water and skimmed it across the surface of the ice. She smiled and absently waved to the creature as it swung its thick limb in the air. Continuing her path, she suddenly felt the smack of something wet strike the back of her neck, and as she reached to brush away the slushy mass that dripped under her cloak and down her spine, she was hit by another. Turning in annoyance to confront the culprit, she was surprised to find that she was alone. She had expected a student, or maybe Professor Kettleburn to be the guilty party. Puzzled, she turned to resume her stroll, but out of the corner of her eye saw another projectile flying her way. Laughing, she ducked, and withdrew her wand, forming snowballs of her own.

"So, you want to play, do you?" she called as she launched the ball at her opponent.

There was no verbal response, just a barrage of snowballs as Elizabett raced for shelter behind the willow.

"No fair," she laughed. "You have more arms than I do."

There was a splash in the water as three of the four tentacles retreated leaving only one exposed. It waved playfully, and two more snowballs were thrown in Elizabett's direction. She nimbly dodged them and sprinted to the edge of the lake commanding the snow to form as she ran. With the flick of her wrist, she tossed one with perfect aim, splattering it in the center of the visible tentacle. Carefully creeping onto the ice, she worked her way to the edge of the hole where the squid had emerged. One big eye could be seen under the transparent surface of the ice and another was shimmering just under the exposed water. Elizabett sensed its mischief, but it was blended with a sense of loneliness. As she looked down at the creature, it blinked a large, watery eye and slowly began to sink into the murky depths.

"Don't go," she called so softly that she thought she had whispered it. _I won't hurt you. _The words were never voiced.

The eye returned to the surface and blinked again as the tip of a tentacle broke the ice several feet away. There was a loud crack, and Elizabett felt the ice shift under her feet. Then, suddenly, she plunged down, unable to breath, gasping in cold liquid. She fought against the weight of her saturated cloak and nearly lost her wand, but before she could cast a spell, there was an unimaginable squeeze around her chest, and she felt her body being lifted. Landing face down on the frozen lake, she wheezed in the frigid air, gagging on remnants of water in her lungs. Shivering, she felt a thick, heavy suction cup adhere to her back as she struggled to regain focus. The big, black eye blinked through the ice, and Elizabett twitched a weak smile in gratitude. Placing her hand on the surface, another tentacle reached up and touched it through the frost. Then, she felt a nudge, and was gently pushed to the safety of the lake's edge. Og, the groundskeeper, came racing down the slope as Elizabett crawled to land, weak-kneed, trembling, and dripping wet. Being assisted to her feet, she collapsed into his strong arms as the squid disappeared.

_Thank you_, she thought as she stared across the empty expanse.

The tip of a tentacle flipped up briefly through the hole and disappeared just a quickly as Elizabett was led away.

~~~***~~~

A cozy fire crackled on the hearth as the late afternoon sun set. Elizabett was curled up in the big, black armchair in front of it, wrapped in a thick, woollen blanket and sipping a hot, spiced tea. Robert Browning's book was open on her lap as she skimmed the pages lovingly. It had been an eventful afternoon, and she debated whether to go to dinner or have a house elf bring her a tray. She closed her tired eyes and tipped her head against the backrest. Smiling gently at the day's memory, she startled when a soft knock sounded at the door. Unfolding her cramped legs, she stretched and tossed the light blue blanket over the arm of the chair as she went to answer it. Standing before her was a dishevelled, tired-eyed Albus still wearing the clothes he wore on Friday night. Heaving a weary sigh, he asked to come in, and Elizabett kindly widened the door to make room. The worn-out man entered, slowly moving to the armchair that Elizabett had vacated and flopped heavily into the seat, resting his head onto his right hand.

"I thought I could do it," he began softly. "The idea was a good one. It should have worked." He seemed so disheartened. "I wasted an entire vial of dragon's blood. It nearly depleted my supply," he chastised himself.

Elizabett eased onto the corner of the sofa. "I thought this was a hobby rather than a task. You're so intent on it."

"It is. Nevertheless, when you believe in something, it's important." He raised he eyes to hers.

"I didn't mean to trivialize what you're doing, but I always thought hobbies were supposed to be fun, not frustrating," she sincerely replied.

He snorted lightly. "I think that all aspects of life can be frustrating at times, regardless of how much you enjoy them. I'm sorry I left so suddenly on Friday. Did the invitations get sent?"

"Not yet," Elizabett answered. "I plan on going into town tomorrow afternoon. I'm glad you're here. We never finished ironing out the details."

"As I've said, my dear, what ever you want." Albus closed his weary eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair.

Elizabett inhaled slowly, seeing his fatigue, and not wanting to start a fight, but growing annoyed at his disregard. He opened his eyes at her silence and tipped his head to the left in a questioning gesture.

"This is _our_ wedding, Albus, not mine alone. This is the beginning of a partnership, and I'd like your input. What do _you_ want?" Her impatience was beginning to show, and the fire in the hearth began to grow with her restrained energy output.

"I want you to be happy," he uttered, his head still reclined.

"I know you're preoccupied, but I'd be a lot happier if you were more involved with the process." She sounded calm, but the fire had nearly doubled, and Albus gazed at the flame with interest.

Raising his head, he sat a bit straighter. "I've always heard a wedding called "her day", "the bride's day". I was leaving it up to you, to do what you wished."

"I'm not that selfish." Elizabett shook her head slowly. "This is _our_ day, and I want to know what you want from it. Even the little things."

"We chose the site together, and the invitations," he defended.

"I felt like I was twisting your arm the whole time," Elizabett countered.

"My darling," Albus reached his hand to tenderly touch her knee, "I don't care what colour the napkins are. I don't care if the flowers at hung from the ceiling or from the chairs. I just want to marry you."

"That's sweet, Albus." She could sense his sincerity. "I don't care what colour the napkins are either, and I'd hang the flowers wherever _if_ I only knew what kind of flowers you favoured. Professor Flaurance says that the Moonglow Corinthians and Delphiniums would be ready in time."

"Perfect," the tired man twitched his lips upward at the choice, "They're both beautiful and have a lovely scent." There was a pause for a moment before he spoke again. "I _am_ partial to blue. The adornments could be in blue," he suggested, "and I could look into a quartet to perform the music. I know of someone at the Ministry."

Elizabett took a slow, cleansing breath. This was all she wanted. His say in the proceeding. She began to calm, and the fire returned to its gentle crackling. Relaxed, she leaned back into the soft cushions. "I'll ask the house elves to prepare some menus for us to go over," she added. "You missed a great game yesterday. Gryffindor won," she grinned.

Albus smiled as he rested his head again. Closing his eyes, he was asleep before he could respond.


	23. 23 Bad Dreams

**23 – Bad Dreams**

He was a younger man, full of fire and passion, with grand dreams and someone to share them with. He was happy that summer. He had a friend who sympathised with his situation; having his travel plans and future ambitions cancelled by the need of his family. The imprisonment of his father years ago and accidental death of his mother earlier that year, left a younger brother and sister to care for, a heavy responsibility for someone so young, and he resented it. But, to find a soul mate with the same ambitions, the same hopes and dreams; he was elated. The warm days were spent planning and scheming, laughing at possibilities and ideas, and growing a hope for the future. But, in one heated moment, it all came crashing down. His brother confronted the pair, claiming that the responsibility to their sister had been shirked. She required closer attention. An argument had erupted. Voices rose in defiance. Wands were drawn, and spells were cast.And, then, there was silence. Three young men stood facing each other, frozen in shock. A young girl lay crumpled on the floor. His friend ran from the wooden structure, abandoning him, breaking his heart, and leaving the brothers to contend with another death. His whole body shivered as he tentatively moved to the lifeless figure on the floor. Touching the thin shoulder, and rolling her over, he gasped, his heart pounding in his ears, a wave of nausea striking him, making him ill. The image of his fourteen-year-old sister changed as dark blue eyes turned pale with a predominant ring around the iris stared blankly at the white, plaster ceiling. The girl's long face turned into a young woman's heart-shaped face growing paler by the second. He tossed and jerked, hearing his own voice groan, "No! 'lizabett! Not you…"

Elizabett quickly moved to Albus' side. She had levitated her sleeping fiancé to the sofa two hours ago and placed a warm blanket over him. He had been deathly still for the longest time, but about twenty minutes ago, had begun to toss fitfully, groaning and mumbling in his sleep. Now, his sobs struck her to the core, and she was on her knees beside him, gently placing her hand on his chest in comfort.

"It's all right," she whispered. "I'm right here. Albus, can you hear me?" Her voice was soft and soothing.

He startled, bolting upright, and knocking Elizabett backward onto the floor. Wide-eyed and frightened, he spun his head around the room, trying to determine where he was. Elizabett crawled back to his side, tenderly placing her hand on his arm, and he jumped at her touch. Then, realization settled in, and he grabbed her into a crushing embrace.

"I thought I'd lost you," he softly repeated as he rocked back and forth.

Elizabett stroked her hand up and down his spine reassuring the panicked man. "I'm fine," she whispered. "It was just a dream."

He pulled back slightly and cupped her face with his calloused hand, tears wetting his cheeks, soaking into his beard. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it, squeezing his eyes shut and pulling her close again. "Just a dream," he repeated. "Just a dream."

In the early morning, right after daybreak, Albus groggily rose and kissed Elizabett's forehead "good-bye" as he left to prepare for the day. He had tossed and turned on the sofa all night, while she sat vigil from her spot in the chair by the fire. She had dozed on and off, not wanting to leave him.

In the morning, when she finally woke, she was stiff and had the sniffles; _a result of yesterday's dip in the pond_, she figured as she wiped her nose with a sturdy, white handkerchief. Unsteadily rising, she stumbled to the bathroom and downed a Pepper-Up Potion before hopping in the shower. Their schedules didn't mesh today, and she wouldn't see him until dinner. She hoped he would be all right.

~~~***~~~

It had been a relatively easy day with little excitement except for having to release another first-year Hufflepuff from a Body Binding Spell. Someone had been entertaining himself or herself in a cruel fashion in the past month by bullying the inexperienced youngsters. Now, as she headed down the forth floor corridor toward the library, the invisible tight band around her head throbbed. Her classes were over for the day, but last week she had promised Madam Olfield that she would help oversee a group of students who were doing a research project for their Potions class. She wiped her nose as she entered the book-filled room.

"I heard you would be here." Horace forced a weak smiled for the benefit of the librarian who stood behind the main counter. "I'm certain we don't need the help, but an extra set of eyes never hurt. Yours are all puffy. Having a bad day?" He grinned spitefully. "Have you seen Albus lately?" he goaded.

"Yes, I've seen him," Elizabett sniffed, wanting to say that he had spent the night, but knowing that younger ears were listening, she said nothing. Transfiguring a piece of parchment into a handkerchief, she blew her nose. "What are they researching?" she drew the conversation back to the students as she tipped her head in their direction.

"It's the fifth-year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. I've pitted the two Houses against each other to see how quickly they come up with the answers. This should be interesting," he snickered superiorly to the side, and then continued, "They're divided into partners; each partnership being assigned a specific potion. It is their task to find an alternative to said potion that would produce the same effect. For example," he nodded to a Hufflepufff pair, "Mr. Diggory and Mr. Bones must find an option to the Draught of Peace. It need not be a potion, and if they really give it some thought, they'd find that a simple but well planned meditation routine would do the trick." He chuckled at the simplicity that had obviously eluded the pair as they faithfully combed the books. Slughorn seemed very pleased with himself.

Elizabett let out a hearty sneeze into her handkerchief and wiped her runny eyes with the back of her hand. "That's tricky," she struggled to smile. "I'd love to see the results."

"I'll fill you in." Slughorn had taken a quick, distained step back her at her personal explosion. "Have you taken anything for that cold? You're contaminating the library," he miffed.

Elizabett nodded, feeling her brain slosh inside her skull, putting pressure on her sinuses. "This morning, but I haven't had an opportunity to return to my quarters since."

Horace waved her off with a flippant movement of his hand. "They're my class. I can handle them. Get out of here before the germs proliferate and create an epidemic."

Madam Olfield tipped her greying head in agreement as Elizabett resigned herself to the dismissal.

Heading back down the corridor, her entire body felt weighted and blackness began to creep into the fringes of her sight. Her temperature suddenly rose, and her body flushed. She raised a hand to her forehead and felt beads of perspiration beginning to form. Leaning against the cool stone wall for support, she felt the strength leave her body, and darkness rapidly filled the hall.

"Professor Castlewood?" She heard a crisp but faint female voice call from what sounded like a mile away. "Professor Castlewood?" There was a sound of running feet as the voice came closer. "Someone get Madam Prince!" she barely registered as she slipped down the wall and crumpled onto the floor. Then, she heard no more.

~~~***~~~

The late day sun glistened on the shop windows as she sat on a café terrace on the busy Champs des Elysees. Paris in the spring had a history of romance, and she smiled as couples passed her by, arm in arm and chatting animatedly. There was a certain passion with the French, a certain "je ne c'est quoi". She had studied Muggles for three years in England, but last year, on a trip to visit her grandmother, decided to remain in Europe. Europeans on the continent had a different way of doing things, a deeper history, and she wanted to know more. Her grandmother had repeatedly warned her to be careful, she sensed foreboding. But, the naïve exuberance of research led the young woman to openly explore how Muggles lived, travelling to several countries, taking jobs where she could, or sitting, as she was now, in local cafes, parks, or plazas talking to and observing them. Muggles were fascinating.

She sipped the foul slug in her tiny cup and winced at the bitterness, replacing the demi-tasse to its saucer. Coffee had never been her taste, but this thing – Espresso – was simply vile. Raising her hand to summon the waiter, she needed something to wash the taste from her mouth.

"I wonder what they'd think of elf wine?" A tall man gracefully eased himself into a chair opposite her. "That stuff tastes more like a poorly brewed Polyjuice Potion than coffee," he smiled casually, offhandedly motioning to her abandoned cup.

She startled at first, but then smiled at the comparison. "You're right," she chuckled lightly. "I think I could stand my spoon in it without the use of magic. How did you know what I was?" she lowered her voice and leaned forward slightly.

The man leaned back in the spindly café chair, leisurely drawing his left arm across the rounded back, and running his right hand through his shoulder length blond hair. "I could sense it," he replied with a charming smile.

The chance meeting of two magical folk on a busy Paris street grew into a friendship over the following days, weeks, and months. She had explained her reasons for studying Muggles and found support in her work. Although he was nearly twenty years her senior, he listened intently, silently absorbing what she had to say. He was from the continent and had convinced her that it was not safe to journey alone. He joined her in her travels, as they moved from city to village in countries that she had never expected to go. They chatted endlessly about Muggle history and philosophy, and of the poor treatment of magical folk over the centuries. They compared family histories and discovered a strong similarity. She was comfortable with him and trusted him. That was her first mistake.

The illness that plagued the most recent village spread swiftly, killing many and worrying the public. She had been working in a small market in the village square when he quickly entered, grabbing her left elbow, and steering her away from the few patrons that were in the shop. He had a quiet urgency about him. They had to leave. It wasn't safe for them to stay. She nodded in agreement believing that he was concerned for their health. Bidding the shopkeeper "good bye", she collected her few wages, and she and her companion disappeared from the hamlet.

Over the next few days, they Apparated in a crisscross manner through Eastern Europe. They never stayed in one place very long, and she became confused. Finally confronting her friend, he grasped her hands and fell to his knees; worry and fear etched on his face. He had kept a secret from her, something he was afraid to tell. She had claimed to come from a family of Secret Keepers. Would she be willing to hold his? His face was solemn, his eyes deep with concern. She could only sense his anxiety and knelt before him, returning his grasp. Of course, she would. His lips twisted up in a cruel smile. That was her second mistake.

Of all the time that they had spent together, he had never made an inappropriate advance, never an improper invitation. He had been charming, polite, and considerate, a good listener and friend, although, somewhat distant at times. From the moment of the bond of secrecy, she understood why, and was horrified. Every town that they had been in, every tragedy that they had witnessed; he had been the cause. He had used her. She had been his ruse, and now she was part of his plan. Anger brewed within her, and she raged at him, but he simply laughed. How naïve she had been? She turned to leave, but felt a hex strike her back: _Impedimenta_. She wanted to cry, but wouldn't give him the satisfaction. How could she have let herself be deceived? She had trusted him, and now she was the Secret Keeper to a monster!

He approached her from behind, his fingers leisurely stroking down her arms. She could feel his breath hot against her neck, his body pressing against hers. Reaching his arms around her shoulders to the front of her robe, he slowly began to unfasten the pearly buttons. She squeezed her eyes together, unable to stop the impending assault. His chin roughly brushed across the base of her neck, pushing her hair aside as he licked the nape. She couldn't even shiver with repulsion. His hands cupped her breasts, kneading harshly as he flexed his hips into her lower back, grinding his pelvis into her backside. _"Imperio"_, he whispered maliciously, and the assault continued.

~~~***~~~

The hospital wing was nearly deserted in the late afternoon of the following day. Visitors had been in to check on their friend and favourite teacher, but had left for the day. Og had heard the news from Professor Kettleburn and quickly relayed the story of finding Elizabett, sopping wet, on the edge of the lake. Albus added that he had seen her on Sunday evening, and she seemed to show no ill effects from the ordeal, but Madam Prince was duly concerned. Elizabett had arrived, unconscious, with a fever of one hundred and three. It finally seemed to be on the decline, but was still too high.

Albus stood with the Headmaster on the opposite side of the cloth room divider quietly talking, when Madam Prince joined them.

"I'd like to know what's going on inside her head." Her brow creased in concern. "Her muscles are so stiff, and she's muttering about something. She's quite agitated but can't seem to move. Maybe if you sit with her, she'll calm down a bit," she suggested to Albus who nodded and made his way to the cot.

"She's flushed again," Albus announced to the mediwitch who had decided to give the couple some privacy.

Madam Prince pushed the divider out of the way and strode to Elizabett's side, raising her wand with a flourish above her patient's head. "Oh, dear," she fretted as Elizabett's head tossed, beads of perspiration soaking the nearly blonde tendrils at her temples. "It was down to one hundred, but is on the rise again." The mediwitch rapidly cast a Cooling Charm. "Hand me that chalice." She pointed to a silver goblet on a table at the end of the bed. "Albus, help me. We need to get her to drink."

Albus was on the opposite side of the bed and slipped his arm under his fiancé's neck and shoulders as Madam Prince held the goblet to her mouth and tried to lower the sheet from Elizabett's body. Elizabett became rigid and cried out at the loss of her protection, her arms unexpectedly flinging toward the ceiling, knocking the chalice from Madam Prince's hand.

"No!" she cried as she drew the sheet tightly to her chest, sweat blending with tears that no one noticed.

Shocked, Madam Prince checked her temperature again. "One hundred and two. We need to do something." She cast another Cooling Charm. "One hundred and three. It's not working!" Her distress was evident.

Albus stroked Elizabett's arm trying to soothe her, but she stiffened again, as if recoiling from something offensive. She gritted her teeth.

"One hundred and four," Madam Prince cried out. "I don't know what's happening. It should have worked. One hundred and five. It's rising so fast." Her concern was obvious, and the headmaster joined her by the bed.

Albus grabbed hold of Elizabett's shoulders, calling to her, begging for her to come back, to fight. But as he loosened his grip, her arms suddenly shot forward, and he was violently pushed away with a foreign spell.

"_Éloigne,"_ she cried, as a spell that seemed to hold her rigid body broke. "NO!" she growled fiercely, her hands dropping to her sides but balling into fists.

Madam Prince and Headmaster Dippet helped Albus to his feet, and the trio stepped back to watch helplessly as Elizabett's body seized again. A white haze formed and encompassed the young woman in a glowing orb, and she was gently lifted from the cot as the white turned to pale blue.

"I've heard of this, but I never seen anything like it before," Madam Prince uttered in shock. "I'm afraid I don't know what to do."

"The Castlewoods are from a very old family," Headmaster Dippet began softly as if talking to himself. "I knew her parents and their families. Her mother was a Lestrange and attended Beauxbaton. There were rumours of a deep, old magic in that line, but nothing more than simply rumours. No one I knew ever exhibited the signs."

"But even old magic can only be manifested by a command, a spell of some sort," Madam Prince added without taking her eyes from her levitated patient.

"Not all," Albus whispered as the pale blue glow darkened. "Ancient Earth magic senses the need from those it's connected with. It can manifest without command to serve and protect in emergencies…such as this."

A silence fell over the trio as Elizabett was smoothly lowered back to the cot, and the blue aura turned white, and then disappeared. No one moved for a moment until Elizabett stirred, groaning weakly as her head shifted on the pillow. Madam Prince was immediately at her side while Albus and the headmaster watched from the foot of the bed.

"Ninety eight degrees," she said as her wand waved over Elizabett head and body. "I don't understand, but I don't care. Her vital signs are all normal." She gave a thorough check of the heart and lungs as well.

Albus moved to Elizabett's other side and took hold of her hand as her eyes fluttered open. Smiling above her, he whispered, "You gave us quite a scare."

Elizabett closed her eyes slowly, but her lips turned up at the corners in a weak smile. Albus was there. She was safe. That's all that mattered.


	24. 24 Oh, Happy Day

**A/N - To answer Fulleree's question, yes, the handfasting ceremony is real. However, most ceremonies such as that are very personal, so they have a guideline, not set words to say.**

**Dani**

**24- Oh, Happy Day**

"Strange, I never gave it much thought, but I guess it's something we have to think about. I've lived in those quarters for over ten years, and never thought of moving." Albus ran his long fingers though his auburn beard considering the notion. "I suppose it's something that we should address rather soon, though."

Elizabett smiled at him over their lunch and shook her head humorously. The din from the multitude of students muted their conversation to most except for those closest to them. "You know, we could always retain our own quarters and simply visit each other on occasion," she smirked into her soup as Professor Babbling choked on her crackers.

"You can't be serious?" she blasted, throwing down her napkin indignantly and eyeing them with disbelief. "You two will be married within two weeks, and you haven't got the living arrangements settled yet? What have you been thinking about? Merlin's beard, children! Get it together!" And with all heads now fixed on the properly chastised couple, she huffed and returned to her meal.

Elizabett and Albus eyed each other mischievously, their shoulders shaking slightly with amusement. They had actually met with the Headmaster that morning to arrange a viewing of a set of rooms on the main floor near the greenhouses. In the history of Hogwarts, only a handful of teachers married and stayed at the castle. A few had homes close by in Hogsmeade, but most were unmarried or widowed. The only other exception was Madam Prince who lived with her husband, a member of the International Council of Wizards, and their young daughter. Their quarters were near the hospital wing as Madam Prince's services were on twenty-four hour call.

When Elizabett was under the care of the concerned mediwitch after her fever scare, she learned more about their life at the castle, things that she had never considered, like dealing with children younger than Hogwarts age. Madam Prince had occasionally entertained Elizabett with stories of her precocious Eileen who, at six years old, was already showing a vested interest in attending Hogwarts by slipping out of her restricted area and wandering the halls. Madam Prince and her husband had resorted to casting containment spells in order to stop the wanderings. For the most part, though, during the day, Eileen was educated out of Hogwarts in a small primary school for young, pure blood witches and wizards in a quiet valley just north of London on the outskirts of Cambridge.

"So, what did you think of the rooms?" Albus leaned toward his fiancé as he slurped up the last of his potato soup.

Elizabett patted her mouth with the linen napkin and smiled demurely. "Assets," she began efficiently. "The grounds in that area are level and clear of trees. It has lovely potential for a terrace just beyond the picture window. I think you'd get a excellent view of the sky with your telescope if a patio was to be created." Albus smiled and nodded as if he was thinking the same thing. "The living area is large and bright, and I like the open concept to the kitchen, pretty standard with the rooms that I've seen. I like that the master bedroom is close to spare bedroom…"

"…which would make a lovely nursery in time." Albus' lips twitched shyly upward as his eyes sparkled.

Elizabett returned the smile and continued, "And, I like that there's a room on the opposite side of the apartment. It would make a wonderful study for you. There are a number of things that I liked." She tipped her head thoughtfully.

"And the drawbacks?" Albus was looking for the negative side.

"It's on the main floor, with a large window overlooking the grounds," she stated firmly resting her hands palms down on the table.

"But, that was an asset." Albus was puzzled.

"It is, but in the same breath, any curious student looking to spy could get a full view into our private life." Elizabett's cheeks began to color as she turned toward him.

"Are you afraid some nosy first-year will find out what kind of cereal you eat for breakfast?" Albus chuckled, reaching for his tea.

"No, I'm afraid that some nosy fifth-year may determine the color of my knickers if I should choose to wander to your study to divert your attention."

Albus snorted into his cup, and Elizabett thought the tea might come out his nose. "You're bad," he gurgled.

"I've never heard you complain," was her reply as she nonchalantly finished her meal.

"I'm certain we can cast some spells for privacy," Albus assured returning his cup to the table.

"Make them strong," Elizabett winked roguishly at her fiancé.

~~~***~~~

The gathering turned out to be a bit larger than anticipated as the guests wandered under the flowered arches, and many excited students gathered on the hill by the lake to watch the proceedings. Bathilda and Professor Flaurance had taken charge of the decorations and had done an exceptional job. The extensive emerald green expanse in front of the chapel sported a twenty by twenty foot garden trellis creating an open marquee for the ceremony. Blue and white Moonglow Corinthians hung in fragrant vines from the open, frame roof, creeping down the crisp, white lattice. White and pink ribbons wove through the rafters, linking the bouquets, and golden sunbeams shone warmly through the slats striping the center of the site.

Julius and Marceilla Castlewood, in their immaculately matching dark grey and silver robes, mingled proudly having been introduced to many of the staff members. They were joined by the Malfoys, the Blacks, and the Cresswells, and laughed and chatted at fond memories and of past handfastings. Grandmaman Lestrange, who had been escorted from her home in France by Axius and his wife, rested on one of the small but sturdy chairs that were clustered close to the outer edge of the trellis and was presently speaking with the Headmaster. Her frail body belied the inner strength of the old woman, but one could feel the power radiate from her. Thomas had arrived with Kalina in tow, clinging to his arm, and grinning girlishly, tossing her long locks of golden hair over her shoulder. He looked uncomfortable, and pulled at the collar of his frock coat. It appeared almost as if he would rather have been there alone, as he hardly paid attention to his youthful companion. Quickly grabbing a glass of wine from a passing house elf, he downed the contents in one gulp and reached for a second. Nicholas and Perenelle quietly blended with the crowd. They had told Albus during a recent visit that nothing could keep them away. And just as the ceremony was about to begin, Aberforth arrived looking sullen and unkempt, but silently took a seat on the far side of the marquee, away from the other guests.

Albus and Elizabett stood inside the chapel door obscured by the shadows, nervously looking out at the guests. It was supposed to have been a simple ceremony, but as the day approached, the couple felt drawn to a more spiritual union. The High Priestess of a local coven was invited to perform the rite, and had graciously agreed. Arriving an hour prior to the guests, she cleansed the area of negative energies and prepared the ritual adornments. Each corner of the marquee held a small, wooden table, about hip high, that supported a rose pillar candle on a crisp, white cloth, each candle signifying one of the four elements. In the center of the marquee, a polished, oak table held a chalice and athame, two candles – one red and one white, and a three-foot length of red ribbon. Guests carefully avoided this area for they knew the altar represented a sacred place to welcome the Goddess and God.

Elizabett closed her eyes and took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. Her dress had been her mother's, her grandmother's before that, and she was honoured to carry on the tradition. The soft, white silk had been magically fitted to her body, as her curves were more pronounced than her mother's. The skirt flowed from the waist, draping gently over the hips, creating a small train that dragged about a foot behind. The bodice fastened up the back, and tiny, pearl flowers were embroidered onto the lace front and tight, lace sleeves. The modest scoop neck accentuated the ancient, three-strand pearl choker that her grandmother had given her as a gift, and her sunlit brown hair shimmered with gold highlights, hanging loosely down her back. A circlet of wildflowers woven with white ribbon was magically fastened on the top of her head, looking very much like a halo.

Nervously, she shifted her feet, and Albus reached for her hand. Giving it a light squeeze, he flashed a tiny smile that radiated comforted and eased her nerves. He looked so handsome in his white, linen robe. It was simple but elegant. The edging around the collar and front closure was a silvery gray, and he wore a white and gray braided string in his neat beard. Elizabett leaned forward resting her cheek on his chest, and he bent to kiss her forehead.

"Are you ready?" he quietly asked.

"When you are," she whispered in reply.

"Good," the Priestess smiled at the pair and stepped into the doorway. Facing the gathering, she raised her hands and drew their attention to the chapel.

Without a word, immediate family and close friends formed a circle in the center of the ritual site, around the altar, while the remaining guests watched from the sides.

Lighting sweet smelling incense in a swinging holder, the Priestess walked the circle, calling to the elements, inviting them to join the rite. Then, lighting the red and white candles on the altar, she raised her hands and tipped her face to the sky, invoking the deities.

"I call upon the Goddess in the guise of Aphrodite, always the desirous one, the sensual lover. I call upon the God in the guise of Eros, the kindler of desire, the bringer of love. We invite you to join us here to witness the bonding of these two hearts, the hearts of Albus and Elizabett."

The priestess walked toward the chapel and held her hand out to invite the couple into the circle. Hand in hand, they stepped into the sunlight and were led down the grassy path to the center. Stopping before the altar, the priestess took a deep, cleansing breath, and offered a moment of silent meditation.

A few guests shifted in their spots but remained intent on the rite.

Then, the priestess turned to the couple and solemnly began. "Albus, do you join us here of your own free will, to acknowledge before the Lord and Lady the bond that is shared between yourself and Elizabett?"

Albus cleared his throat and nervously uttered, "Yes."

The Priestess then turned to Elizabett and repeated the question.

Elizabett's cheeks began to flush as she shyly smiled. "Yes," her answer was barely a whisper.

The couple was instructed to face each other and join their left hands. There was a pause as Albus gazed into Elizabett's eyes, but he inhaled slowly, his lips twitching upward timidly.

"My dearest Elizabett, my love and my life, you are my support and my comfort. I vow to always hold you close in my heart, to be faithful and devoted only to you, to care for you and protect you to the best of my abilities. I will support your endeavors and encourage you in life. You are my partner, the one I will cherish forever." Kissing the tips of her fingers, his eyes glistening a sparkling blue, he finished, "This is my solemn vow to you."

There was a moment of silence before Elizabett began. "My dearest Albus." There was a nervous twinge in her voice. "You are my love and my life, my support and my comfort. I vow to be at your side always, to love you with every fiber of my being, with every breath I take. I will encourage you in your endeavors and support you in life. You are my partner, my other half. I will cherish you forever." Raising his hands to her lips, she kissed his fingers and concluded, "This is my solemn vow to you."

The Priestess placed her left palm over their clasped hands and with her right held a length of red ribbon before them. "Here before witnesses, Albus and Elizabett have sworn vows to each other. With this cord, I bind them to the vows that they each have made." She wrapped the cord loosely around both wrists. "However, this binding is not tied, so that neither is restricted by the other. The force of true binding is the desire to remain together through life's difficulties and joys, though good health and poor, through new adventures and everyday life. It is the acceptance of each other as you are, with strengths and weaknesses, understanding that people grow and change, and yet wish to remain together." With both hands, she raised the athame above the chalice, and lowered the dagger into the wine. "Goddess and God, united as one."

Albus and Elizabett stood facing each other, lost in each other's eyes, and in unison recited, "Heart to thee, soul to thee, body to thee, forever and always, so mote it be."

The guests instinctively responded, "So mote it be."

The couple unbound their left hands and made an exchange of simple, gold bands.

The priestess raised her arms once again to the sky. "Of two who share their hearts, smile upon their union." She lowered her hands and directed toward the newlyweds, "Go in peace and love. Share your hearts openly. Love with your souls." She led them to the besom that lay on the ground behind them. "A leap of faith, my children, and a leap into the future." Albus and Elizabett clasped hands once more and jumped over the broom. "As the Elemental Guardians bless this day with peace and warmth, we thank them for their presence. As the Goddess and the God, Aphrodite and Eros, bless this day with strength and love, we pay tribute to their bright blessing. May your lives follow their path. May you seek the wisdom of their ways. May you allow love and peace in your heart. As you take your leave, remember the significance of this day. Hail and farewell. Blessed be."

As Albus leaned to kiss his new wife, the round of applause that rose from the guests was nearly drowned out by the cheer from the students watching from the hill.

~~~***~~~

Tables were set under the festive marquee, and house elves served drinks and hors d'ouvres to mingling guests. The couple visited with friends and family, accepting best wishes and congratulations. Grandmaman Lestrange had immediately flipped up both of their palms and cackled with delight, but refused to say what she had seen. She simply drew a knowing finger to the corner of her right eye and clasped their hands together in hers.

Aberforth warily approached to offer his congratulations, and Albus drew the man into a warm hug. "I'm so very glad you came," he muttered emotionally. "You cannot fathom how much this means."

Aberforth twitched a weak smile and nodded slightly toward Elizabett. "She's pretty, and if she's a teacher, she's smart." High praise from the quiet man, and Albus' chest visibly swelled.

A heavy clap on Albus' shoulder broke the tender moment as Thomas bolstered forward. Kalina was nowhere in sight, and Thomas was obviously intoxicated. "Good man, good man." He unsteadily stood beside the groom, holding onto his shoulder for support. "She's a great girl." He winked at Elizabett. "Great kisser, too," he chuckled. "Really great kisser, but I'm sure you know that already." He nudged the older man intentionally. "Don't need me to say. She could have been mine, you know…if I hadn't been so stupid." His jovial mood was rapidly spiraling down, and Elizabett glanced around to see if anyone else was watching.

"I understand how you must feel, but you have a wonderful girl…" Albus calmly tried to keep things quiet.

"Girl, yes," Thomas snorted derisively, then perked up, "Great sex," he said a bit too loud, drawing attention, and clapped his hand over his mouth. Whispering to Albus, he added, "Wouldn't know about Lizzie, though. She never let me get that close. Bit of a prude," he snorted again. "Guess she was saving herself for you." His fool mood was returning.

Before things could get worst, Merrick and Maude Cresswell appeared by their son's side, Kalina near tears behind them. "I think it's time you came with us, son," Merrick firmly informed the inebriated man who looked up like a chastised child.

As he was led away, Maude hugged Elizabett affectionately. "I'm so sorry this happened. We'll be back before dinner." Then, linking her arm with the teary blond, they left the marquee and headed for the chapel.

"Well, that was bloody awkward," Dogma Black affirmed as he approached the reeling couple. "Merrick will take care of things. Not to worry." He gave the pair a reassuring nod as he clasped Albus' hand. "For what it's worth, you make a lovely pair. You seem well suited for each other."

The couple smiled affectionately at the man, but became distracted by other guests and politely moved on.

"Did you really mean that?" Abraxas Malfoy quietly sneered as he approached his friend.

"Of course," Dogma replied lowering his voice. "Can you not see it? The Muggle-lover and a half-blood?" he scoffed. "Whether we approve or not, the man has a certain reputation that must be reckoned with. And, Julius has opened his door to him. That is something we cannot overlook."

Abraxas "hmphed" and glanced over his shoulder at the smiling family as they gathered near the head table. "I suppose you're right, but I can't believe that Julius would allow his line to be tainted. We are amongst the few pure families left. You'd think he'd try to keep it that way."

"And what would he do? Lock his daughter in a tower for the rest of her life? Even she has made a name for herself at the Ministry. He and I have spoken of this, and he sees it as an opportunity. He said, "Understanding is the key to knowledge. If you know how Muggles behave, you can predict their behavior in the future". I think that certain information will be very handy with the Muggle unrest on the continent and Grindelwald's continuous rise. Something to keep abreast of."

"Perhaps," Abraxas reluctantly agreed. "But, I'm afraid I could never agree to such a union. I'm simply pleased that my children married into families with long, pure histories."

The two men nodded in silent agreement as the group was invited to sit for dinner.


	25. 25 Honeymoon

**25 – Honeymoon**

The room was small but quaint. The rough stone, outer wall hosted a tiny window draped in a heavy, dark cloth. The remaining three walls were ancient, white plaster, but well kept, sporting simple, wrought iron wall sconces. No one knew where the first night would be spent, but Albus made sure that strong wards were placed for privacy anyway. A large, wooden, four-poster bed dominated the chamber, and there was little room for any other furniture except for two small side tables. White candles glowed in each quadrant, and the red and white candles from the ceremony were lit on either side of the bed.

Much to Elizabett's disappointment, and occasional frustration, Albus had made certain to avoid close contact with her since before Yule. He wanted this to be right. He wanted to see what would happen.

It had been Nicholas who had suggested to Albus that they be married on Ostara. His reasons were more systematic than altruistic. Although Beltane, in May, was the celebration of the union of the Goddess and God, Albus was no God. A union on Ostara, between a mortal and someone connected with the Goddess would produce a strong heir, a child with untold powers. Nicholas had his suspicions about Elizabett and her propensity for Earth magic, and although he thought the skills were underdeveloped and suppressed, they appeared to be strong.

Albus' carefully worked his hands over Elizabett's silky skin, eliciting moans and responses that made him smile. He was patient, taking his time, studying the changes in her temperature and colouring. About half an hour ago, he observed a pale pink glow radiate around her. She never noticed. Now, as he eased his way down her body, stroking the soft, moist folds between her legs, the glow swelled into a bright crimson aura. She was amazing to watch. Her knees instinctively rose, inviting him in, but he continued his mission, staring across her contoured length. His beard brushed over her stomach as he whispered almost silently against her abdomen.

"Hieros Gamos, ruler and might,

Conceive with the Goddess here tonight."

The words became an inaudible chant as he nestled between her knees, his lips lightly brushing a tiny bundle of nerves that had Elizabett gasp and arch against the bed. He latched on, suckling tenderly, repeating the chant in his head, watching the crimson aura begin to pulse.

It was Elizabett's guttural cry for satisfaction that had Albus rise onto his arms and rapidly thrust forward, impaling her in one stroke. They moved together with precision, slowly at first but with growing intent, until Elizabett's eyes flew open, and she wrapped her ankles around his hips, abruptly stopping the motion. Her normally pale blue irises were white, but the dark ring remained, and the strength within her startled Albus as he was flipped onto his back, nearly rolling off the bed. Elizabett straddled his hips, deepening the penetration, lost in creating a rocking motion of her own. The aura intensified, pulsing a rhythm, and he held his hands out to her. Their fingers laced as she rode his body, her luminescent skin stunning the man beneath her. In his awe, he continued the chant, and what began as a murmur grew into a throaty groan.

"Hieros Gamos, ruler and might,

Conceive with the Goddess here tonight."

Both reaching their peak, Elizabett arched within the aura, her internal walls contracting against Albus, milking his seed and drawing it in, and as the marriage was consummated, the enchantment was cast. The crimson aura began to subside, turning pink, and then vanishing completely as Elizabett slumped over her husband, the energy temporarily drained from her body. He drew her across his chest like a rag doll, and they rested for a moment before she rolled to his side to be lovingly tucked under his arm.

Stroking her long tresses with his right hand, he grinned satisfactorily. If all had gone as planned, Elizabett would be pregnant. She had said that the powers seemed to get stronger with each generation. He wondered about the future. If Gellert was successful, he would have to… Albus shook his head to dismiss the thought. What was he thinking? He loved Elizabett. This was their honeymoon. Tipping his head to kiss her forehead, she smiled sweetly at him, and slipped her hand comfortably under his beard to stroke his chest.

"I must say, that was…intense," she grinned against his warm skin. "It was like running on complete impulse and feeling. Wow," she sighed.

"I'm glad I could please you. You were incredible. See, it was worth waiting for." He grinned remembering her pout when he had refused her advances in their new quarters the week before the wedding.

"I suppose," she muttered fingering his chest hair, then inching her hand lower, she impishly enticed, "Care to have another go?"

Albus chuckled lightly and placed his hand over hers, bringing it back to his chest. "I need a little recovery time." He patted her fingers and closed his eyes to sleep.

Elizabett snuggled against him feeling a bit disappointed that her advance had been put on hold, but trying to understand a man's physiology. She had little experience. Maybe he did need time to recuperate. She, on the other hand, was raring to go again. Her energy was returning.

As Albus' light snores filtered through the tiny room, Elizabett stared at the plaster ceiling. It had been an amazing day. The sun shone brightly, the ceremony was beautiful, and the meal of roast lamb had been exquisitely prepared. Petite had made the wedding cake and proudly oversaw the preparations for the food. Thomas had surprised her with his outburst, but had publicly apologized later that evening in a toast to the couple. She felt sorry for him in some way. It was obvious he still cared. She guessed that after a lifetime of caring for someone, you couldn't just turn it off. But he had left her, she reasoned, and in doing so, she was able to confront her feelings for Albus. She smiled to herself snuggling into the dreamy warmth. He was an incredible man, and she was lucky to have him. He had arranged this funny, little, thatched-roof hideaway on the Isle of Lewis for their first night. He said that the massive stone monoliths in the area had a strong historical significance to wizard kind. They planned to visit them the following day to pay tribute to the Goddess and God. "After all, it was Ostara," he had said. Funny how he never seemed to be very interested in spiritual matters until the past few months. She had always felt a connection, even though she didn't openly pursue the faith. Calling a priestess to perform the ceremony had actually been his idea. She smiled again. It looked like their relationship may be full of surprises.

~~~***~~~

"Did you know that these stones were positioned like this nearly four thousand years ago? We're standing in the centre of the second largest stone circle to Stonehenge, and if you look through here…" Albus moved Elizabett between two massive pillars and pointed over her right shoulder to the distant mountain range on the horizon. "What does that look like?"

Elizabett's eyes followed his finger, and she smiled at the image before her. "Didn't you get enough last night…and this morning?" she chuckled. "Or has the image burned itself into your memory?" The mountains had the form of a woman's body.

"Interesting, isn't it?' He grinned. "This location is just south of the arctic lunar circle. The moon rarely rises completely above the horizon, but when it does, it rises over that mountain range, the moon touching the earth, the God kissing the Goddess, so they say." He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head, feeling her slight body against his. "Callanish is said to have great power. Many come here to observe the sabbats, to pay tribute the Mother Earth and Father Moon."

Elizabett turned in his arms to face her husband. "Since when did you become so spiritual?" She twitched a curious smirk at him.

"Since I've found heaven on Earth." He hugged her warmly.

~~~***~~~

Arrondissement Douze, or the Twelfth District, was on the southeast side of central Paris, far enough from the tourists, but close enough to the Rivière Seine to watch the boats go by. It was a pleasant, residential area whose elegant, cut-stone buildings would one day be in demand in the bustling city. Elizabett looked out over the river from the long, narrow window of their rented, studio apartment and breathed in the cool, fresh air of early morning. She could almost smell the flowers blooming in the Bois de Vincennes further to the east. She and Albus had visited the spectacular reserve on the first day of their arrival. It was four times larger than Hyde Park in London, and was one of Elizabett's favourite places in France. Since their arrival, they had played the tourists, visiting such places as the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Basilica de Notre Dame. It was wonderful to bypass the Muggle sightseers, and Albus gladly relinquished Apparition rights to his new bride. She was pleased to show him around. As much as she had been raised in seclusion in England, France was her second home. And since her graduation for Hogwarts years ago, she had been a frequent visitor, becoming almost as knowledgeable of the area as the residents. Yesterday, they had gone to the Champs des Mystère in Wizard Paris and enjoyed the cultural differences and similarities between the British Diagon Alley and the French equivalent. She smiled at the memory.

Hearing a rustle behind her, she turned to see her husband restlessly toss onto his back in the bed.

"Good morning, sleepy head." She smiled at the dishevelled man. "There's tea in the pot, and I bought some fresh croissants from the bakery on the corner. Are you hungry?"

Albus abruptly sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. He had had that dream again, and it startled him awake. They were in a strange little town, very old, with cobble streets, and dark, decrepit structures. It didn't look like Paris, but there was a familiarity about it that he couldn't put his finger on. His heart raced.

"Are you alright?" Elizabett asked with concern taking a step closer.

Albus shook his head to dismiss the memory, and smiled at the young woman standing in the warm sunlight. "Yes," he responded as he tossed the covers back. "Tea?" He stood, straightening his light blue nightshirt and padding over to the small dining table by the window to pour himself a cup. "Mmm, these look good." He picked up the flaky pastry to examine it.

Elizabett stood beside her husband sensing something wrong. She touched the back of her hand to his cheek. "You're flushed again, and sweaty, but you're cold. Did you have that dream again?" Albus said nothing but took a bite of the bread. "Albus, that's the third time since we arrived in Paris. There's something here that's obviously bothering you. Maybe it's time we left. You wanted to show me some places you'd been to, or we could visit Nicholas, or my grandmother?" she suggested earnestly.

"But, there's so much to see here," he began with regret.

"And, we can always come back. We have a whole lifetime to explore places together," she appealed with a comforting smile.

He closed his eyes, a funny twitch playing on his lips. She was such a good woman, so kind to him. He reached out to draw her into a loving embrace, and her arms reached around his waist to return the gesture.

"Would you mind if I left you alone for a few hours?" he quietly asked to the top of her head. "I promise to be back by lunch, and then we'll decide where to go next."

"As long as you promise not to run off with a witch from the Moulin Noire." She wagged a playful finger at him remembering his expression when they had passed the Wizard version of the Moulin Rouge on the magical side of Paris. "You be careful. I'll take a walk along the Seine."

~~~***~~~

Albus Apparated from just outside the apartment to a rustic dragon encampment in a hidden part of northern Romania. The place was nearly abandoned, and he wandered the site for a familiar face. Spying his contact by the compound of a female Horn Back, he cautiously approached and solemnly greeted the young man.

"You're in luck," the burly keeper gravely said. "We've had a death. You said you were looking for something in particular. I kept if for you. Sealed it the way you asked. I hope your experiment works."

"So do I," Albus replied with a serious nod. "What's happened around here? Things are so quiet."

The young man shook his head in revulsion. "Damn Muggles." A scarlet flush began to creep up his neck. "Even with the added shields, some of their weapons penetrated the west side of the compound. We lost one of our best. That package you're getting is worth a small fortune on the open market. Take care of it, and be very careful."

The men talked for a few moments longer, then turned to walk to the keeper's hut located on the other side of the rocky grounds. With a package the size of a loaf of bread tucked under his arm, Albus bid his contact "good bye and good luck", and focused on the vision from his dream. He couldn't understand the draw, but he needed to know where it would lead. Closing his eyes, he felt the recognizable squeeze as he left Romania and landed in front of a strangely familiar building.

Standing on the sidewalk on a deserted street, he stared at a dilapidated manor through the tall, wrought iron fence. The building was made of chipped, white brick and greying clapboard. The peeling, black shutters hung perilously from their hinges. There was a feeling of dread, obvious magical wards having been placed to keep the curious at bay. The grass was thick and deep, and the trees in the front yard had grown wild, brambles blocking the narrow path to the front door. The place appeared to be abandoned, but Albus had his suspicions. Someone evidently didn't want people to pry. Pressing forward, he passed through the first layer of wards and steadily traversed the overgrown path. Climbing the rickety, wooden stairs, he stopped in front of the simple, black door, examining the heavy knocker. It, too, looked strangely familiar, but he couldn't tell whether it was from his dream or from a distant memory. He knocked, but there was no answer. He knocked again. The wards were strong, but he sensed no one inside. Shrugging with disappointment, he shook his head and descended the steps. He really would have loved to know who this house belonged to and why he kept dreaming of it.

~~~***~~~

The sun shone brightly, but the cool breeze off the river had Elizabett cast a Warming Charm to fend off the early April chill. Still, it was a beautiful day. Leisurely strolling the boardwalk on the north side of the Seine, Elizabett had worked her way from the apartment to the centre of Paris. She had stopped a few times to watch the gulls over the water or to wave to tourists on the open, sightseeing boats that meandered under the bridges. You would never know that there were troubles in the world. The French were so full of life that they often couldn't see the dangers ahead. Stepping onto the terrace of a small café, the young woman ordered a hot tea to warm herself.

"What? No espresso?" A blond man in his late forties slid into the chair opposite her, making her jump. "And no personal ward to alert you of approaching strangers? Tsk, tsk. You're losing your touch."

"What are you doing here?" The hair on the back of Elizabett's neck prickled as she glared at the man.

"Oh, please," he drawled, leaning his left arm over the back of the chair, "I've come to offer my congratulations. You're a married woman now, Albus Dumbledore's wife." His grin was menacing. "Axius told me about the ceremony. How charming. A priestess. The flowers. My, my, how romantic."

"What is it you want?" Elizabett's jaw tightened, but she emitted an aura of control.

"My dear girl," he sighed, "I do miss your company. We need to have another chat. Personally, I'd love for you to bring you new husband along, but alas, I'm afraid we're on opposing sides. I'd have to kill him." He grinned wickedly.

"I can't just disappear without someone noticing. I have a life," Elizabett directed.

"For now." Gellert's lips twitched upward.

"Is that a threat?" Elizabett's eyes narrowed.

"I never threaten," her nemesis replied. "You know full well what I'm capable of. You'll find a way. My place. The next new moon." He rose with a polite nod and turned down the street, disappearing in the crowd.

Elizabett's stomach churned, and she pushed her tea away. She hated the thought of being at his beck and call and had to find a way to lessen his control over her. She sat silently for a moment, staring into the crowded street. She could feel the build of something big about to happen. There had to be a positive side to this. The last time they met, she was able to thwart some of his plans by covertly relaying them to Albus. As much as she hated the thought, it may be worth the risk to see what he was planning. With a heavy sigh, she set her resolve. The new moon was nearly a month away. She had time to plan.

~~~***~~~

"Well?" Nicholas anxiously pulled Albus into the library and away from the women who were sipping tea in the parlour.

Albus' cheeks turned crimson as he shifted his feet and looked down with slight embarrassment. "It's done." His lips twitched upward bashfully.

Nicholas broke into a broad grin drawing himself to his full height. "And? Were we right?" he asked softly.

Albus nodded with a small smile, closing his eyes at the memory. "It was amazing," he breathed. "The expression "she was glowing", it's real. Pink first, then a deep crimson. When she took control, her skin was… luminous."

"Unconditional love that led to passion, then the Goddess embodied. I knew it." Nicholas clapped his hands excitedly. "And the spell? Did she notice?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. I don't think it matters," Albus sputtered. "At this point, I would welcome whatever happens. I've never felt like this. I didn't think it was possible."

"So, it really is love." The old man smiled fatherly at his friend. "Love is a powerful emotion. It can make you do strange things, things you never expected to do. But, that love also provides a partnership, a companion. I couldn't imagine my life without Perenelle. She keeps me going. You once said that Elizabett was your muse. This is good. But, could you imagine a child with your combined powers? This is not something to be taken lightly. It's something to be cherished."

Albus closed his eyes again and inhaled deeply. "Any child with her would be cherished, but I think her grandmother suspects. We visited her before coming here. I could tell that she was suspicious about something. But, I think she likes me. She keeps patting my cheek." He grinned.

"She can reach?" the old man joked. "She's such a tiny woman. I spoke with her at the wedding. You can feel the power radiate from her. But, be careful. If threatened, I feel she may do what she must to protect her line."

"She's an old woman. Do you think she's capable?" Albus questioned curiously.

"Absolutely," Nicholas replied indignantly. "Don't let her age cloud your judgement." He shook a crooked finger at him. "One day you'll be old, and you'll want people to see you for the powerful man that you are. With age comes years of perfected skills…if you're wise, and use them to your advantage." Nicholas knowingly tipped his head toward his friend.

There was a light tap on the library door, and it magically opened with a slight wave of Nicholas' wand.

"We're sorry to interrupt, but the Floo connection should ready," Perenelle announced to the men. "Elizabett has gathered your travelling case from the bedroom and is waiting in the hall," she directed toward Albus.

"I guess this is it, then." Nicholas shook his friend's hand. "Keep me informed." He clapped Albus on the shoulder as the women entered, and the younger couple moved toward the fireplace.

With warm goodbyes to their friends, Albus and Elizabett stepped into the Floo and disappeared in a flash of green flames.

"Keep me informed?" Perenelle eyed her husband suspiciously. "My instinct tells me that this is not about his work."

"Not entirely." Nicholas playfully scooped his ancient wife into his arms and gleefully placed a sloppy, wet kiss onto her cheek.


	26. 26 Desires and Deceptions

**26 – Desires and Deceptions**

Tom sat in a quiet corner of the library, the _Daily Prophet_ spread on the table before him. He had been following the events in Europe with great interest, listening to his housemates enthusiastically discuss the growing situation. This wizard, Grindelwald, intrigued him. He seemed to be a very powerful wizard, gathering a substantial following, and being suspected of rather horrific deeds. Tom's lips twisted upward at the thought.

Many of the Slytherin families were great supporters of Grindelwald, and Tom felt that if he listened closely, he could learn much. Older boys, like Jacob Rosier and Ewan Avery, were particularly fascinating as they began to openly voice their opinions, at least in the privacy of the Common Room. They knew they had to be careful. And, he watched with envy as several of his housemates were regularly invited to confidential meetings with Professor Slughorn after hours, in his office. It was an exclusive group that he wanted to be apart of. He longed for that kind of selective recognition. However, even though he had turned thirteen at his last birthday during the Christmas holidays, he was still considered too young. Tom sneered at the thought, but took silent satisfaction in knowing that he was powerful, more powerful than any of the others could possibly imagine.

His lips twisted upward again. Even his teachers had praised his prowess with magic. They were sympathetic to the reclusive, orphan boy and found him "charming"… at least all but one. His brows furrowed in reflection. He didn't like Professor Dumbledore. He felt transparent in the man's presence, like the professor could see right into his thoughts. He didn't like that feeling.

Leaning back in his seat and scowling, he folded the paper neatly in front of him. Withdrawing his wand, he tapped the front page and directed the paper back to the librarian's counter. Madam Olfield raised her greying head from the dusty card catalogue and smiled weakly at the youngster. He glared back in response, and she diverted her eyes. Rising to leave, he smiled to himself. He made her uncomfortable. He had that effect on some people, the weaker ones. _That_ was a feeling he liked, the feeling of intimidation, that _he_ was in control of a situation.

~~~***~~~

The light rustle of a dark cloak brushing across the cropped grass whispered in the blackness of night. Elizabett furtively glanced over her shoulder as she quickly traversed the path toward Hogsmeade. The sun had set about an hour ago, and the new moon left only the stars as the guiding light.

Albus had made her departure easy. Since their arrival home from the honeymoon, he had been preoccupied with the odd package that he had procured from the dragon colony. It was rarely out of his sight, and he frequently disappeared to the lab or was found scratching notes in the library or at the kitchen table. Elizabett was often left alone to unpack their belongings and get the new quarters settled. This afternoon, he had been so distracted that he brought his last class to the library to do a research assignment while he wandered the Restricted Section. He hadn't shown up for dinner, and Elizabett knew that he had gone straight to the lab when the workday was over.

Her stomach churned, and she felt ill. She had planned her departure to the last detail. Both the Floo and Portkey were traceable, therefore ineffective methods of transportation. Flying would take too long, and it wasn't her strongest skill. She would have to Apparate, hop scotching from Hogsmeade to Dover, then across the English Channel to Paris, and then on to Hungary. It would be gruelling, drawing on much of her energy, but necessary, and she knew the way well. When they had met in Paris, Elizabett could feel something on the rise, a tension growing worse than in the past. She needed to find out what Gellert was up to. A course of action had to be developed to thwart his newest scheme.

Reaching the outskirts of the tiny Wizard village, Elizabett gazed up at the flickering lights of Hogwarts wondering if her husband would notice her absence. With an apprehensive sigh, she shook her head and closed her eyes, steeling herself against the restricting feeling of Apparition. Focusing on her first destination, there was a light crack, and she was gone.

~~~***~~~

Gellert Grindelwald sat in a large, leather armchair in front of an empty fireplace, staring thoughtfully into the pristine hearth. There would be no fire tonight. He didn't want interruptions. He had been looking forward to seeing Elizabett again. She had been his closest confidant at one time, and he missed her. He missed talking with her, sharing his thoughts, and getting her feedback. He knew full well that his actions had repulsed her, and that she resented being trapped into an alliance with him, but there was an unexplainable draw to her. Holding a shot glass of Firewhiskey in his right hand, he held it up in the dim lamplight to examine the amber contents, a slight, crooked grin growing on his lips. There was something special about her that he couldn't explain. His smile quickly faded. It was a shame that she had developed such a strong guard against his _Imperio _so quickly. Her lithe, little body had provided delightful entertainment while it lasted. Her fire had surprised him, and he had enjoyed the fight.

The ornate mantle clock above the hearth struck the hour drawing his attention up. It was getting late. Surely, she would come. She knew what would happen if she didn't. He took a leisurely sip of the liquor and laid his hand on the armrest, waiting.

~~~***~~~

Elizabett stood on the opposite side of the street outside the decrepit black and white manor. Her energy reserves were low, and she needed a moment to regain her strength before moving into the power of the wards. Gellert had taught her this method of travel years ago as they traversed Europe "studying Muggles". It was easier and less complicated than reserving Portkeys, he had said, and she naively complied. Now, years later, it had become a valuable skill, but one that left her feeling weak and tired.

After ten minutes of standing in the shadow of a burnt-out street lamp, she drew her shoulders back and steeled her appearance. Lifting her chin as if heading into the lion's den, she twitched a small smile pulling on a brave façade, and cast Occlumency to its fullest. Stepping off the curb and crossing the abandoned street, she moved forward with purpose, through the multiple layers of security, and up the decaying front steps. As she approached the simple door, it slowly eased open to admit her access, slamming shut as she stepped through.

Gellert stood in the archway of the study, leaning casually against the doorframe, his chocolate brown frock coat open to mid-chest displaying a cream-coloured, fine linen shirt reminiscent of the late seventeenth century. He still held the Firewhiskey in his right hand and took an unhurried sip as he studied his guest.

"I'm glad to see that you remembered your way," he drawled acerbically, straightening away from the wall. "Please, join me." He stepped aside making a smooth, sweeping motion with his left hand to cordially invite Elizabett into the chamber.

"You didn't give me much choice," Elizabett coolly stated as she passed him heading to her favourite chair. "However, after some thought, I had to reluctantly admit, I do enjoy our conversations. You give me much to think about."

Gellert's smile was genuine as he followed her in and moved across the room. "A drink?" he offered from a small table by a large, heavily draped window.

She nodded. It was a risk that she had to take. The multiple Apparitions had left her parched. He reached for a crystal decanter of Chianti, but she stopped him. "No," she smiled sweetly. "My tastes have changed. Do you still stock Bordeaux?" He turned slightly to eye his guest. "And a glass of water would be nice," she added demurely.

He tipped his head in polite acknowledgement, and tapped his wand on the side of a tumbler. "_Aquamenti"_ filled the glass with ice-cold water, and he handed it to the young woman who leaned forward to receive it graciously. Reaching into a cupboard below the small sideboard, he retrieved a dusty, dark-green bottle, and wiped it with his hand. "The best of the elf wines," he said lowly as he poured a glass. "I hope it's to your taste."

Elizabett accepted the glass and took a small sip. It was tasty, but wasn't the reason for the switch. She knew he'd have her usual prepared. The change would throw him off guard, and hopefully result in an untainted drink.

"It's very good. Thank you," she sank comfortably into the chair. "Shall we get down to it?" She swirled the wine in the globed glass. "So, Gellert, what do you have up your sleeve?" She smiled benevolently at him.

His grin grew, and he looked delighted with himself. Lowering into the leather armchair that was placed beside her, he proudly began his tale. "Where to begin, where to begin…"

As the evening progressed, a Warming Charm was placed on the chamber, and as the conversation continued, night eased into the darkness before dawn. Elizabett was in awe of the immensity of the plan. It had developed far beyond anything she had anticipated. He was a master of manipulation, playing the Muggles against each other in a way that created further dissention without his additional involvement. It was brilliant, but brutal. The Muggles had already begun invading each other's territory, killing and destroying, and it threatened to escalate. Gellert gleefully expressed that even countries as far away as in the Southern Hemisphere had begun to show interest in the battle: a war to rival the Muggle's last one. Gellert's goal was to extend its range. He had "influenced" certain military officials with his own ideologies of purity and superiority, and several of his key followers had voluntarily joined the ranks of the Muggle military creating a force that was magically enhanced. Elizabett shook her head in disbelief. Was there anything she could do to stop this madness? Was it out of her control?

By the time she left, she felt helpless and defeated. She was both mentally and physically exhausted and still had a long way to travel. With the sun still sitting below the horizon and the weak rays struggling to stretch upward, Elizabett left Gellert's and headed home.

~~~***~~~

The door to their chamber silently eased open. By this time, the yellow-orange rays of the early sun rested brilliantly on the horizon. Creeping in and shutting the door carefully, Albus snuck into the main room. If he were lucky, Elizabett would be sleeping soundly and wouldn't notice the hour in which he was coming in. He hadn't intended to stay out so late…again, but the dragon heart that he had fortuitously received over a month ago was something that he felt would launch him into a completely new phase of his "hobby". After all, the heart pumped the blood through the body, and a dragon's heart was remarkably strong considering its small size in comparison to the magnitude of the creature.

Besides, he didn't think she'd mind much. Since their return home, Elizabett seemed somewhat distracted. He thought it was merely her introverted way of keeping their life private while adjusting to being Mrs. Dumbledore. They felt it would be confusing to have two Professor Dumbledore's in the school, so Elizabett had retained her maiden name for professional use. Maybe this was the cause for her edginess? He didn't know, and then there was the fight this morning. He forgot, once again, to help levitate boxes from her old chamber to their new one even though she had made time to help with his. He hadn't reciprocated, and she had lost her temper quite violently and abruptly. Thankfully, she had cast a Silencing Charm before the rant, calling him "selfish" and "obsessive", and he had uncharacteristically retaliated with the typical "Hufflepuff in a family of Slytherins" line. But, upon retrospect, he supposed that he deserved her wrath. She was right. He had been neglectful. But, the heart was a rare treat to have. He had to give it his attention, he reasoned.

Tiptoeing across the living area, he drew the thick curtains closed against the brightening morning light. It was Saturday, and no one would think anything of it if they didn't show up for breakfast. Pushing the bedroom door open just enough to slip through, he found Elizabett sleeping on her side facing the inner wall of the room. Hauling his dark grey work robe over his head and quietly tossing it onto a chair by the wardrobe, he changed into his light blue nightshirt and gently lifted the edge of the crisp sheet, slipping silently into bed. She stirred, opening a worried, unseen eye, and Albus held his breath, but she didn't roll over.

"Nice of you to join me," she uttered coolly.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized laying on his back and staring up at the white ceiling. "I sent a house elf to let you know, but he said he couldn't find you."

Elizabett remained facing the wall but felt her temperature rise. "I needed some air and went for a walk," she lied.

"Really?" he said, tucking his left arm under his head. "It was a little chill last night. I hope you took a cloak," he continued to stare up. He could feel the tension between them, and he didn't like it.

"Of course," she muttered sleepily keeping her back to him.

Turning to spoon her from behind, Albus snuggled into his wife, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. "I'm sorry," he muttered into the crook of her neck.

Elizabett put her hand over his but said nothing. Feeling him wiggle deeper under the covers, she heard the light snore of her sleeping husband within seconds. _He had sent a house elf_, she worried. _At what time?_

~~~***~~~

Elizabett's tousled head popped off the pillow. The bedroom curtain was drawn, but the bright mid-day sun beamed around the edges. Albus was still snoring evenly beside her, and her stomach began to roil. Last night's Apparition marathon had left her entire body aching. She felt like she had been hit by a Hippogriff's wings. Rolling onto her back to reduce the pressure on her side, she felt the bile rise into her throat. With her head beginning to spin, she bolted to a sitting position, and her feet hit the floor. Racing to the washroom, she collapsed onto her knees, and grabbed hold of the porcelain bowl near the sink, violently vomited into the toilet. Wiping her sleeve across her watering eyes, she leaned back to rest on the cold, tile floor, her back knocking into bony legs. She tipped her head backward to gaze up at the concerned face of her husband, but the motion brought a new wave of queasiness. Lurching forward, she grabbed hold of the bowl and continued to empty her stomach. Sitting back again, she found Albus on the floor in his nightshirt, his back against the tub, offering a cool, damp flannel for the base of her neck, and another to wipe her face.

"Are you all right?" he asked with gentle concern.

Elizabett shook her head weakly, tears streaming down her face, her head foggy. Multiple Apparitions had never made her feel this bad. Maybe it was a combination of things. He said that he had sent an elf last night? Did he suspect that she had gone out? He had come home so late. Was he really working in the lab or did he go looking for her? She had gotten in only moments before him, hearing him open the front door as she slipped into bed. She had pretended to be asleep but had listened as he snuck into the room. Her mind whirled in confusion and guilt, and she shook her head at his question.

"My poor dear," he said drawing her into a gentle hug and softly brushing a kiss on the top of her head, smiling into her hair. "I'm so sorry if I worried you. I didn't intend to be so late." He snorted softly. "You know what I can be like. You were right. I've been selfish, and I must strive to improve. However, you must realize that I have a prize that is rare and unique. I have to care for it, otherwise it will be ruined."

"I understand," Elizabett croaked into his chest feeling the sting of tears brimming in her eyes. "Your work is important. Whatever it is you received in Europe demands your attention."

"I wasn't talking about my work," he gazed down lovingly at his bride. "I was talking about you. You are my prize. You are rare and unique. It's you I should be caring for. I don't want to ruin what we have." He shook his head sadly. "Please forgive me." He held her tenderly and gave her a tender squeeze.

"Ohhh, don't do that," she groaned after trying to return the embrace. Replacing the cloth to the back of her neck, she turned a shade paler.

Albus pulled his head back to look at her quizzically. Hesitantly, he asked, "Have you missed anything lately?"

Missed anything? Her panic rose again. Did she forget to do something last night? Oh Gods, had she been careless? She fearfully shook her head again at his question.

He didn't notice her concern as his lips twitched upward slightly, and his eyes began a merry twinkle. "Think, my love, when was the last time you had your… umm… monthly?" he asked uncomfortably.

Elizabett's brow creased. Monthly? What an odd question. She thought for a moment. "I don't remember," she said faintly. "I've been so busy. Before the wedding, I think."

Albus inhaled proudly. The spell had worked. The slight smile turned into a broad grin. "That's seven weeks ago, dear. This is the first time you've been sick, but I recall you complaining about not feeling well."

Elizabett's head was pounding, and her fear of Albus finding out about Gellert turned into a new fear. Pregnant? Could it be?

Albus held her in a loving embrace, and she rested her head on his chest. "I may not have been attentive lately, but the honeymoon was certainly… umm…active," he chuckled lightly. "Maybe a visit to Madam Prince later today would be wise."

Elizabett nodded, her cheek rubbing against the soft fabric of his nightshirt. A child. That would throw a whole new spin on her efforts to stop Gellert. He was bound to find out and use it against her. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. This should be a happy moment. It's what she wanted, what they hoped for. She buried her face into his chest unable to decide whether to laugh or cry.


	27. 27 Detention

**27 - Detention**

"Mr. Rosier, Mr. Avery, if you hold this course in such contempt, why did you register for it? It's an option to seventh years." Elizabett fairly fumed at the insolent behaviour of the two boys as they disrupted the class once again. "I have put up with your antics all year, because you present an opposing view that give the rest of us something to think about. However, your poor conduct now supersedes your views and has reached the unfortunate end where your presence is no longer desirable. Keep it up, and I'll have you removed from class for the remainder of the year."

"Is that a threat?" Jacob Rosier grinned maliciously at the Muggle Studies professor, eagerly leaning his elbows onto the desktop, his short, black hair slicked neatly back.

"Certainly not." Elizabett smiled shrewdly in return as she approached the offensive boys. "Merely a fact." She placed her hands on the smooth wooden surface, bending to quietly speak the troublesome students. "I will no longer have this class disrupted by your behaviour. Detention with me after school today, both of you." She straightened and slowly backed away.

Rosier's eyes narrowed. "And if we refuse?" he challenged. "You know our families," he reminded.

Elizabett cocked her head to the side, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Words of warning, gentlemen, don't test me." A flip of her wrist had the boys' wands sailing threw the air to her waiting hand. Catching them easily and transferring them to her desk, she withdrew her own wand and silently cast a Reminder Spell, then had them gentle float back to their owners. "Immediately after dinner. Six thirty. Right here," she instructed.

The boys snorted derisively, gathering nerve from each other, but warily looking at their wands.

"Oh, and boys, you won't want to be late." She nodded toward the wooden sticks in their hands, a crooked smile growing warningly on her face.

~~~***~~~

Elizabett sat at her desk correcting the latest essays from her fifth-years. This was a class that had embraced the idea of learning about Muggles and had some very interesting ideas about what they were like. She was always entertained by what they came up with. This last composition dealt with the Muggles' fear of magical folk and their violent reaction to their discovery: _Witch Hunts in Britain_, but from the Muggles' point of view. It was a fascinating read.

The tired professor raised her head and rotated her shoulders. It was six thirty on the nose. She twitched a small smile to herself. The boys hadn't shown up yet…but they would. Their wands would make them. This was another trick that Gellert had taught her, only she had been on the receiving end.

By six forty-five, Elizabett impatiently tapped her fingers on the desktop. They were late. This was puzzling. By seven o'clock, the door crashed open, and two red-faced, angry Slytherins were dragged into the room by their pants pockets, closely followed by an equally red-faced Potions professor.

"What is the meaning of this?" Slughorn furiously demanded as the boys were forcibly pushed into their seats by an unseen force. "Their meeting with me was rudely interrupted by this… this…" He irritably waved his left hand to the agitated boys as they squirmed. "I examined their wands. I even tried to break the spell, but I received _this_ for my efforts." He abruptly pushed the back of his right hand toward the silent Muggle Studies professor. The word "no" was scrawled across the back. "What is the meaning of this?"

Elizabett leaned back in her seat and steepled her fingers at her lips, measuring the situation carefully. She faintly nodded toward the students. "I gave the boys detention, and they challenged my authority. I felt it prudent to make certain they got here on time. The delay caused the wands to be… insistent. As for your hand, it will fade, but next time, you should take care not to meddle with things you don't know about." Elizabett held her eyes on her colleague. "Gentlemen," she addressed the defiant Slytherins. "Place your wands on my desk. You will find two buckets of hot water, soap, and scrub brushes by the chalkboard. I want every desk in this room spotless…the Muggle way."

The boys startled and turned to their Head of House as if to ask if he was going to do intervene.

He returned their gaze and pressed his lips together, tucking his thumbs into his glittering green vest pockets and puffing himself up like a rooster ready to fight. "I must protest," Slughorn fumed. "These boys are seniors…and Slytherins. They cannot be lowered to such a demeaning task. You know their families. You know they'll hear about this. Besides, they were to meet with me tonight," his rant turned into a near whine.

"I'm afraid you're little club will have less two people tonight." Elizabett maintained her control. "As for the sort of punishment chosen for a Muggle Studies class, I believe this to be quite appropriate. As for their families, I will deal with them as I always have. You have two choices, Horace, stay and watch, or attend to the others, but these boys will not be leaving until their punishment is served…and, if they continue to disrespect me and the class, they will be removed from the course and lose the credit. Is that understood?"

Slughorn drew his shoulders back indignantly, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. She couldn't be serious? But, Elizabett didn't flinch, her countenance remained firm, her eyes bore into his, and he could feel a power emanate from her that made him uneasy. He slowly began to deflate.

Finally, he chanced a glance at the baffled-looking boys and gave his head a sharp nod. "Do as your told and cause no more trouble," he ordered as he rapidly exited the room.

~~~***~~~

Albus was in the lab when Horace slammed the door open and strode in. The force of the wooden planks smashing the stone wall sent a tremor through the air that had Albus' test tubes rattling in their stand.

"Bloody meddling woman!" Horace paced the flagstone floor furiously. "Who does she think she is? How dare she! It's all your fault, you know." He shook an angry finger at Albus who was steadying his latest experiment from the onslaught. "Two of my best… She's asking for trouble…" he ranted, waving his hands in the air.

"Exactly who has done what to whom?" Albus quietly peered up at his friend as Horace finally stopped before him.

"Your wife. That's who," Horace fumed. "If you had come to dinner instead of burying yourself down here again, she may have told you, and you might have been able to stop her!"

Albus straightened becoming fully alert. "Stop her from doing what? What's happened? Is she alright?"

"She's fine… for now, but I can't guarantee that it will remain that way. She gave Jacob Rosier and Ewan Avery detention tonight. Made sure they'd come by casting some sort of spell on their wands. When I tried to break it…look, look, what it did to me." Horace shoved his injured hand under Albus' nose. "She has them scrubbing desks like common Muggles." He began to pace again.

Albus flexed his jaw, but spoke calmly. "She told me that they were causing trouble in class. Elizabett seldom gives detention, only as a last resort. They must have pushed her too far this time." His eyes narrowed at his friend. "What did you mean by, "She's fine for now"? You'd better make certain that those boys don't do anything foolish, or they'll have me to contend with." Albus strode around the counter to face the Potions professor.

"I can't control all of their actions. You know, boys will be boys." Horace nervously backed away, feeling the anger radiate from his friend. "And, they have families involved with Grindelwald. You know what that means. And, look." He pitifully raised his hand again. "What sort of teacher would cast a spell on a student's wand so it would harm them?"

Albus angrily grabbed the hand, bending it forward with force. "She would never cause a student harm. This is nothing but a marking, like ink. I've seen this spell before. It fades within hours." Albus lowered his tone and came within an inch of Horace's face. "She is not to be harmed in any form- not a threat, not a slip, nothing. If anything happens to her, you will be to blame."

"Now, now, Albus." Horace took another step back pulling his hand away from Albus' grip and tucking it under his arm. "A bit protective, aren't we? I realize that she's your wife, but she's also a rather powerful witch. I'm sure she can protect herself if need be."

"She shouldn't need to. She has the right to exhibit her authority in her class as she sees fit without concern of retaliation... from anyone," Albus warned.

"Merlin's robes! She has you whipped." Horace's lips twitched slightly in amusement. "I've never seen you behave like this before."

Albus turned dismissively to continue working at the experiment. "She's done no such thing," he muttered absently, fiddling with the closest beaker.

"She has." Horace was fairly grinning. "A woman at that. I never would have guessed. Do tell, what's the attraction? I could never understand." He eagerly stepped forward, but Albus remained silent. "Fine then. Have it your way, but if you are so enamoured by her, then why do you spend so much time down here?" He raised a curious eyebrow to his friend.

"She understands me," Albus quietly answered, staring at the countertop, his hands placed on either side of a bubbling beaker. "She understands that this is important to me."

"Really?" Horace sounded unconvinced remembering his evening stroll last weekend.

There was silence between them for a few moments and neither moved.

"Make certain she doesn't get harmed," Albus quietly repeated, raising his gaze to meet the other man's eyes.

Horace twitched a solemn smile. "I'll do my best," he agreed noticing his friend's sincerity.

"No," Albus affirmed seriously. "She is not to be harmed. Not even a Tickling Charm."

Horace's brows furrowed, and he pulled his immense chin back creating three.

Albus drew a deep breath, uncertain if he should continue, but his instinct told him he must. "She's pregnant. In the first trimester. Only Madam Prince knows at the moment, and we'd like to keep it that way until the end of school. The first months are the most delicate."

If it weren't for his massive chins holding his mouth closed, Horace's jaw would surely have dropped. "Pregnant?" he sputtered. "Merlin's balls," was his whispered gasp. "I understand your concern. I'll do my best," he assured. As the stunned Potions Master slowly headed toward the door, he turned back to the room. "I guess, um, congratulations are in order. When is the baby due?"

A grin crept over Albus' face, and a merry twinkle began to sparkle in his deep blue eyes. "December," he announced proudly. "Somewhere around Yule."

~~~***~~~

It was nearly ten o'clock when Elizabett dragged herself down the long corridor to her chambers. Rosier and Avery had grumbled for most of the night, complaining that their hands hurt, their backs hurt, they shouldn't be lowered to this, she was going to regret her actions. It went on and on. Listening to them whine was as draining as the long day that she had had.

Finally releasing the wards, she pushed the door open to find Albus standing on the other side to greet her. Taking the satchel from her hand, he led her to the sofa and sat beside her as she flopped down. A tray of lemon tea and ginger biscuits waited on the coffee table.

"Horace came to see me tonight," he began as he poured her a cup. "Are you alright?" He handed her the tea.

Taking it graciously, she smiled weakly. "I'm more tired from listening to their complaints. Gods, they're such babies." She took a sip of the hot liquid. "They signed up for the class, but I'm not going to put up with their insolence any more. I'm standing firm. If they don't behave, I'll have them removed."

"You need to be careful," Albus pointed out with concern. "They are untrained followers of a ruthless wizard. They are eager and ignorant, the worst sort of combination. You have yourself and the baby to think of. I don't want anything to happen to either of you." He took the half empty teacup from her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her back into the cushions so her head rested on his chest. "I love you. I couldn't bare it if something happened to you." Albus snuggled into her, kissing the top of her head.

Running her hand under his beard, she felt his heart beat steady and strong. Wiggling closer, she paused, her mind reeling with how she would handle the "Rosier/Avery" situation. Yet, Albus' light caress of her spine softened her mood, and she tipped her head, brushing a light kiss against his earlobe, drawing it tenderly between her lips. Moving her mouth to the soft spot below the ear, she let her hot breath begin to stir his senses. Flicking her tongue to draw a line along his jaw, she felt him shudder under her touch. Smiling at his response, she moved seductively against his side, slowly bring his lips to hers. And, what began as a gesture of kindness with a cup of tea grew into a passionate night that moved from the sofa to the Persian carpet by the fireplace to the bedroom where the candles burned into small puddles of melted wax.


	28. 28 Peace In The Unexpected

**28 – Peace In The Unexpected**

Exams were finished, graduation was over, and the students were gone for the summer. Albus and Elizabett had stood with the rest of the staff to bid farewell to the students at the Leaving Feast, and Elizabett had made a point to find Minerva McGonagall before the train left. Although the stiff, Gryffindor Prefect hadn't opted for Muggle Studies in her final year, she still kept in touch with her favourite teachers, and was often found in Albus' classroom after hours getting extra practice and perfecting her skills. She had been the pride of his class and had blossomed under his guidance earning her top marks and an invitation to apprentice with a Transfiguration Master.

Elizabett was also very glad to see the backs of Jacob Rosier and Ewan Avery as they headed out to the train. Horace had kept his word to Albus and had kept the boys under strict scrutiny. Although there had been a few minor attempts had vengeance, neither boy was terribly skilled at stealth, and they were caught every time. Elizabett chuckled lightly to herself. They wouldn't last a day with Gellert's crew.

The rest of the staff stayed close to the school in the last days, finishing the correction of exams, taking inventory of classroom supplies, and getting themselves ready for the summer holiday.

It was during the final staff gathering when the announcement was finally made.

"Congratulations!" "Such wonderful news!" "So happy for you!" rang through the staff lounge as friends and colleagues gathered to wish their best to the happy couple.

Albus and Elizabett had dutifully waited until the end of the first trimester before finally announcing the pregnancy. Bathilda was a bit miffed that she hadn't been informed earlier, as she had been the first to hear of the engagement, but understood the concern for the wait. She was the one to hoot, "The pitter-patter of little feet next year won't be that of the first years!" which drew laughter from the group.

Albus protectively and lovingly wrapped his arm around Elizabett's shoulder as he proudly puffed his chest and accepted the best wishes. However, as happy as he felt, he was equally nervous. All of his planning, all of his research into Earth magic and it's transmission through the generations, along with the deep care he felt for his wife, made him question his actions. Scientifically, with their combined powers, the offspring should be uniquely powerful, but did he have the right to…? He unconsciously shook his head and forced a small smile. It shouldn't matter. He loved his wife. This baby would be a blessing regardless of its powers. But, there was an inkling at the back of his mind, something that nagged at his conscience. He knew deep down that this baby would somehow be important…needed. It was part of his plan despite his emotions.

~~~***~~~

Horace sat at his large office desk, the chair creaking ominously under his great weight, his hands folded neatly over the large expanse of his belly. He leaned forward slightly, reaching, and popped another piece of candied pineapple into his mouth, savouring the sweet, crystally taste. He had slipped out of the meeting after the announcement, not wanting to hear any more gushing, and wishing to block out the infernal fuss. It had been a difficult year, and it was finally over. He shook his head and huffed, closing his eyes against the thought. He couldn't believe that Albus had actually married that woman, and that he had stood in the circle at the wedding as a good friend would. The memory of it upset his stomach, and he let out a large, foul belch. And now, she was pregnant. Somehow, he had uncharacteristically managed to keep that bit of information to himself, although there were times when he would have dearly loved to see the look on Bathilda's face that he knew before she did. His lip curled up for a moment, and then dropped with distaste. _Pregnant_, he snorted cynically to himself. Everyone was so happy for the golden couple of Hogwarts, the Headmaster's pets. They all wished them well, including Professor Babbling who really had no care for Elizabett. And, they seemed so excited for the changes in the upcoming year. He didn't. Not at all.

As much as Albus trusted her, the Potions professor still had his doubts. He was certain that Elizabett had planned the entire affair from the start to capture the eminent man. She may be Hufflepuff, but she had hidden Slytherin tendencies. Her family history and his years of experience told him that. He had watched her throughout the year as she smoothly dealt with staff and students, but there was something harsh under that demure exterior, a toughness that could only be developed through difficult experiences. The way she handled Rosier and Avery, in particularly, made him wary, and the underlying strength that she seemed to emanate made him nervous. There was something "off" with her, something misleading. He knew it, but couldn't put his finger on it.

Several times throughout the year, he had seen her alone, either by the lake or heading toward the boundary gate that led toward Hogsmeade. At first, he thought nothing of it. She was going shopping or running errands, he surmised. But within this past month, when he knew that Albus was otherwise occupied, he had seen her sneak out again. He had been returning from Hogsmeade himself one evening, and had seen her disappear from just beyond the gate. Apparating in her condition wasn't the safest way to travel, and he wondered where she was going. Was she annoyed with Albus for spending so much time in the lab again? Was she heading home to Mummy and Daddy for consolation? Somehow, he didn't think so. She seemed nervous, looking over her shoulder to gaze back at the castle, as if afraid of being caught.

He reached for another sweet and let the flavour melt on his tongue. As he sat there thinking, there was an uncomfortable, yet familiar, stir in his groin. Frowning, he shifted in his seat and reached his hand to rub the spot. That feeling had been returning more frequently, ever since Albus was back in his domain. He had missed his old friend and began to wonder why, if he loved his wife so much, he was spending so much time away from her. He felt he had to let Albus know that the options were still open.

Sighing deeply, he struggled to his feet. He needed some fresh air.

~~~***~~~

As the week came to a close and staff members began to depart for the summer, Albus headed for the door of their chambers. "Don't wait up," he said as he kissed Elizabett's forehead and smiled affectionately. "The Headmaster has a few things he wants me to do over the holiday, something about a special, young half-blood."

"What's so special about him? Hogwarts has a number of half-bloods," Elizabett questioned curiously.

"This one is a half-giant," Albus grinned. He always seemed to be intrigued with the unusual. "The situation may be complicated, and Mister Prince is involved. It may take a while."

"A half-giant?" Elizabett's eyes widened with concern. "The Headmaster wants to bring a half-giant to Hogwarts? Is he mad?" Her apprehension was obvious.

"I believe there are other issues involved, but I won't know all the details until I get here. So, if you would kindly unwrap yourself from my waist…" he chuckled at his wife who had mischievously slipped her arms under his work robe and was working her hands seductively up his back.

She pouted playfully and batted her lashes. "Any clue how long you'll be?"

"A couple of hours, I assume. The boy is only one topic to be discussed," Albus answered as he stroked his rough fingers down Elizabett's soft arms as she let go. "It's a lovely evening. Why don't you enjoy our new patio?" He tipped his head toward the polished pane of glass at the far side of the living room that overlooked the expanse toward the greenhouses. On the opposite side was a twelve-by-twelve foot flagstone terrace surrounded by a three-foot high fieldstone wall. It sported a small, round, dark green, wrought iron table and two matching chairs, as well as several flourishing potted plants. Elizabett's panache with flowers had fruitfully grown the loveliest pink and red roses on the grounds.

"Maybe, I will." She smiled back at him. "But, I'll miss you." She grinned roguishly.

Albus grinned back and gave her another peck on the forehead before releasing her and slipping out the door.

With a heavy sigh, Elizabett deflated tucking her wand into the side-seam pocket of her robe and wandering out to the terrace. Gazing blankly toward the greenhouses, she thought, _he said, "a couple of hours"._ A warm, gently breeze blew up the bank and over the stone wall rustling the flowers that rested on the ledge. Leaning her backside against the edge of a sturdy chair, she watched the petals dance. She'd give it another few minutes, then head for a walk toward the lake.

~~~***~~~

The birds chirped in the early evening, and the light breeze created ripples on the surface of the otherwise still water. Madam Prince had said that walking was good exercise and an activity that should be kept up throughout the pregnancy. The stone path crunched under Elizabett's feet sounding louder than usual without the din of a hundred or more students racing around the grounds. Stopping to watch the squid lazily backstroke across the lake, she thought of all the changes that had occurred in her life this past year. In one year, she had lost her beau to another woman, confessed her love for an older man, was formally courted by that man, married him, and was now pregnant. She smiled warmly at the recollection. Albus was so sweet albeit somewhat obsessive about his work. She savoured the thought, but her smile slowly faded as she remembered other aspects of the year. Rosier and Avery had given her much grief, constantly challenging her, and reminding her of their families position with Grindelwald, and several times she had caught young Tom Riddle frightening the first-years. Albus' gut feeling about the boy was proving correct, although few other teachers saw it. Gellert had called her on several occasions, and she was thankful for Albus' preoccupation with his hobby. She was able to sneak out to gather critical information that was covertly passed along to thwart the actions of a man she despised but was sworn to protect. Her role as submissive had to be played carefully otherwise she would suffer the consequences. There was far too much at stake.

Continuing her stroll, Elizabett passed through the trees and followed the familiar route to the boundary gate. Pushing it open and standing in a small, hidden grove on the other side, she sighed sadly and focused on her destination. As the recognizable squeeze of Apparition began to close in around her, she felt an odd grip tighten on her forearms before completely Disapparating.

~~~***~~~

"What in bloody hell?" Elizabett heard as she landed at the prearranged location; a small, dark room in a dingy inn, on the Champs des Mystère, in Wizard Paris. _"Avada Kedav…" _was cast but never completed.

"No!" Elizabett abruptly shot her hand out disarming the assailant, and casting a Protective Charm around her and the unexpected guest.

"How careless of you!" the furious man ranted, scarlet rapidly creeping up his neck to his pale cheeks. "This must be dealt with immediately!"

"And, it will," Elizabett snapped shaking the remaining grip from her left arm and casting _Petrificus Totalus _on the startled visitor.

"Oh, please," her contact sneered. "You must be joking? Kill him now or our bond is broken."

"I won't, and nor will you," Elizabett angrily countered. How could she have let this happen? She chastised herself. She had been distracted by personal thoughts and hadn't been paying attention.

"Then _Obliviate_ him," Gellert commanded. "Either you do it, or I will."

"Gods, Gellert, if you do it, the man will have no memory what-so-ever. He'll spend the rest of his life in the Janus Thickey ward at St. Mungo's."

Grindelwald raised his right eyebrow as if to say, "So?"

"You can't," Elizabett declared. "There would be far too many questions, all of which would draw attention back to me and that would lead back to you, which would unravel any plans that you have. You can't afford to have that happen, not on something so trivial. You know I'm good with Memory Charms. I'll take care of it."

Gellert Grindelwald's eyes narrowed as he flexed his jaw. She always spoke her mind with him, but she was always temperate with her words. He couldn't believe that this mild woman was so forcibly holding her ground. It intrigued him. She had grown stronger, more confident, over the years.

"You'd better take care of it, or your perfect, little life will fall apart," he threatened. Taking a step toward their frightened guest, he exhaled stale breathe into his face. "I could still kill you. Consider yourself lucky…for now."

Horace's mind was reeling. What had he gotten himself into? All he wanted to do was talk with Elizabett, confront her about her wanderings, about her true purpose regarding her relationship with Albus. But, _this_ he never would have guessed. What was she doing with the likes of Gellert Grindelwald? Had she actually stood up to the darkest wizard of the time, and he listened to her? Had she really stopped the man from killing him? With all his suspicions about her, he never suspected this.

Elizabett's_ "Mobilicorpus" _had him swiftly moved from the centre of the room to a corner on the far side, and within seconds,_ "Stupify"_ knocked him unconscious. From then on, he heard no more.

"You called this meeting. Why didn't you come to the house? What is it you want?" Gellert's anger was by no means on the decline.

Elizabett paced the room, and then stopped by the small bed. "I can't keep going back and forth like this. I Apparated directly from Hogwarts. The physical strain is too much," Elizabett stated matter-of-factly.

"Nonsense, I've seen you do much more than that," Gellert snorted derisively. "You're getting soft, too comfortable. Maybe I should shake things up a little." His lips twitched menacingly.

Elizabett stood facing him, deciding that the direct route would be the most effective, steeling herself for his response. "I'm pregnant," she announced flatly, watching for his reaction. It was worth it.

The man who hid his emotions so well, the man nothing surprised flinched at the words but recovered quickly and drew to his full height. "You're brave to be telling me this. You know what I could do with this information, how it could be used." He paused for a moment, and then with a small, quirky smile he asked, "It is Dumbledore's, isn't it? I didn't think he had it in him," he snorted mockingly.

"Of course, it is," Elizabett remained unmoved, "And, what do you know of my husband?"

Gellert's quirky grin widened. "Oh, nothing. I've just heard a few things." It was his turn to gage her reaction. "I heard he preferred men."

With Horace as a reminder in the corner of the room, Elizabett quickly recalled the early stages of their friendship, when Horace had been Albus' constant companion. Then, she remembered her conversation with Albus, months later, when she had made the same insinuation, and then there was his "research" prior to their first intimate encounter, and their subsequent encounters.

Elizabett slowly smirked. "Obviously not. At least, he carried through on the act, unlike someone else I know." She tipped her head in her nemesis' direction.

Gellert visible recoiled with instant anger. As much as he had enjoyed her lithe, little body, he could never consummate the act and could never understand why.

Elizabett watched with suppressed satisfaction, as he remained speechless, crimson colouring his pallid skin, his teeth grinding in fury. In a flash, his hand whipped forward, wand draw, a spell on his lips, but the unexpected happened. The spell collided with an astonishing, shimmering white aura rebounding back and striking him in the chest, sending him tumbling backward. Stunned and livid, he struggled to his feet.

"Get out!" he seethed. "Get out while you still can."

Elizabett stepped toward Horace and grabbed hold of his petrified forearm. She didn't know what had just happened, but she was grateful for the reprieve. Focusing on Hogwart's boundary gate, she Side-Along Apparated the stone-like Potions professor home.

~~~***~~~

The sconce on the opposite wall flickered a rhythm that mesmerized the sleepy man, and he sat, motionless, staring at the dancing, yellow flame. It had been an unusual evening, and he was terribly tired. He had gone for a walk around the lake after dinner, having a strange feeling that since Albus was in a meeting with the Headmaster, Elizabett would be going out tonight. But, he found himself rooted to the comfortable armchair in his quarters, an empty snifter of brandy poised in his right hand, a half empty bottle on the low, side table to his left. He remembered the walk, but couldn't remember coming back to his chambers. He looked at the brandy glass and picked up the bottle swirling the amber contents gently and pouring himself another round. Taking a savouring sip, he allowed the liquor to warm his throat. His eyes began to droop, but as the clock on the mantle struck eleven his head snapped up. Where had the time gone? Finished his drink, he placed the glass carefully on the small table. Hoisting himself to his feet, he waddled into the bedroom to change. It was late, and he was tired, and he had obviously had far too much to drink. This whole "Albus and Elizabett" situation was getting to him. Maybe he should just let things be. After all, she seemed to a good woman, patient and kind, and they seemed to be devoted to each other. Maybe he should just get over it and move on.

Horace heaved a heavy sigh as he crawled into bed. Pulling the sheets to his chin, he wiggled deeper under the covers, and as he began to drift off, a quiet, female voice filtered into his dream-like state.

"_Obliviate."_


	29. 29 Advise From The Ages

**29 - Advise From The Ages**

"Are you sure?" Albus asked, politely passing the peas across the table.

"Quite certain. The Minister of Magic has been saying for the past month that something seemed a bit odd with the British Prime Minister. It would appear that someone affiliated with Grindelwald has infiltrated the Muggle government. It seems that there has been a mild Confundus Charm on the man for some time." Julius casually sliced another piece of roast mutton, rolled it through the gravy, and placed it into his mouth. "An investigation has begun into the matter, but the Magical Law Enforcement office doesn't want to tip their hand just yet, so everything is staying quiet. The Minister himself is keeping an eye on Mr. Chamberland," Julius added as he scooped the peas onto his fork. "I wonder how long it's been going on for?" he mused. "I never did like the man, but then again, I don't follow Muggle politics much either. However, I do like to keep myself apprised of certain Ministry situations. It's wise to keep your ears open and your mouth shut. You can learn a great deal."

Albus cordially nodded in agreement. "I'd heard rumours that there's dissention within the British government. Mr Chamberland's own people seem to be losing faith in him, probably a result of the Confundus. Sad." Albus shook his head slowly as he buttered a warm roll. "It's such a thankless job. When everything goes well, the praise is spread around. When things go bad, it's always the top man's fault."

"I always knew you were a little soft for the Muggles," Julius chuckled lightly. "Probably why you and Elizabett are such a well-suited pair." He smiled affectionately across the table to where his daughter sat.

Elizabett looked up and returned the smile uneasily, then turned her gaze to her husband. Little did they know where the information had come from. In the week prior to their leaving for summer vacation, she had been called to the Ministry to meet with members of the Educational Council. As her course was still considered new and experimental, they required a year-end status report, and her opinion on recent events in the Muggle society, as she seemed to be the closest thing they had to an expert on the non-magicals. During the dissertation, she had tried to relay some vital information regarding Gellert's recent activities, but it fell on deaf ears, as the Council couldn't seem to make the crucial connection between what was happening in the Muggle world with possible influences from the Wizard world. It certainly wouldn't be the first time Wizards had interfered with Muggles. Finally, Elizabett had become frustrated and gave up, fretting about the lost opportunity and the narrow-mindedness of those involved.

After the meeting, in the lift heading from the fifth floor to the Atrium, she had encountered the Minister of Magic. They had only met once before and greeted each other respectfully, but remained silent as the lift descended to its destination. Standing in the confined space, Elizabett's thoughts drifted back to the recent conversation with the Educational Council, and her frustration rose again as she recalled their inability to grasp her message. In her last visit to Grindelwald's home in Hungary in early June, she and Gellert had discussed his latest endeavours. He had boasted of a variety of things including his most recent coupe of being able to infiltrate various upper levels of government in several countries and Confund a number of high officials. She had listened intently and was amazed with his cunning, and since returning to Hogwarts had been trying to find a way to relay what she had learned. With classes finished, she couldn't claim "student ideas" to Albus, so when the Ministry owled, she felt that the Council would be the ideal place. She had been sorely disappointed.

Elizabett was deep in thought when the lift stopped to admit another passenger, and as the ride continued, the Minister unexpectedly broke the silence. The new arrival, the head of Magical Law Enforcement, was asked to join him on a task. The Minister had a dreadful feeling that something was wrong and felt it crucial to verify his suspicion. He had a sudden need to speak with the British Prime Minister. The Minister explained that Mr. Chamberland had been acting oddly for months, and he suspected there might be an outside influence to blame. He asked the Head of MLE to accompany him.

When the lift stopped at the Atrium, Elizabett disembarked, leaving the men to continue toward the courtrooms. Heading toward the public Floos, she pondered the result of the ride. Had her thoughts and concerns penetrated the man's subconscious alerting him to a possible nefarious situation? If so, how had that been done? She heaved a sigh of relief. She didn't care. At least, now, someone would be looking into the situation, but what curious turn of events.

"…at least that's what we were planning. Isn't that right, dear?" Albus' question snapped Elizabett from her daydream, and she smiled weakly at the others who watched her strangely.

"I'm sorry," she apologized with an embarrassed whisper, "I must have drifted off. What did you ask?" Her glazed eyes were beginning to focus again.

He shook his head with a small smile and a roll of his eyes. "She's been doing that a lot lately. Off in her own little world."

"That's to be expected." Marceilla patted her daughter's hand compassionately. "There's a great deal to think about. Besides, all this talk about politics…" she tsked. "My mind was wandering, too."

"I was just telling your parents that we planned to visit your grandmother next week," Albus repeated. They had discussed combining the visit with one to the Flamel's. Both would be thrilled to see the baby-bump growing on Elizabett. At four months pregnant, it wasn't much, but on her slight frame, it was beginning to show.

~~~***~~~

Elizabett turned down the corner of the sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. It was getting late, and Albus and her father were still talking in the study. This had happened every night since they'd been at Castlewood Manor, and she was beginning to feel neglected. Wrapping her fluffy, white bathrobe around her shoulders, she padded barefoot to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk. Petite was happy to oblige and stayed with her young Mistress for a few moments until Marceilla arrived. Making the senior Mistress a cup of tea, she faded into the background so that mother and daughter could talk privately.

"There's something on your mind," Marceilla stated quietly as she sat at the kitchen table opposite her daughter. "I've seen it coming since your arrival. Care to talk?" The matron took a sip from her cup.

"I'm just tired," Elizabett bluffed staring at the warm glass in front of her.

Marceilla eyed her daughter with scepticism. "There hasn't been a Silencing Charm on your room since you've gotten here. I heard you and Albus talking the other night."

Elizabett twitched an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. I hope we didn't disturb you."

"Goodness, no," Marceilla dismissed. "I couldn't hear what was said, but it might be wise to cast one should you to wish to…well…you know…," she sputtered with an awkward smirk.

Elizabett snorted scornfully. "No worry there," she unexpectedly blurted. "Albus hasn't come near me since I've begun to show. He always finds an excuse to be busy, or tired, or not in the mood…" Elizabett buried her face in her hands. "Gods! I can't believe I'm telling my mother this!" she whispered wishing she could crawl into the nearest hole and hide.

"Darling, it you can't tell me, then who would you speak to? Have you tried telling Albus how you feel?" The mother tried to console her daughter, placing her hand gently on Elizabett's arm.

"It's too embarrassing." Elizabett raised her head, tears of frustration and humiliation brimming on her lashes. "What do I say? "Why don't you want to have sex with me anymore?"" She turned a bright shade of crimson and lowered her head sadly. "He's affectionate, and I know he loves me, but he just won't…well… you know…" She waved her hand helplessly.

Marceilla twitched a comforting smile. "Maybe he's afraid," she suggested. "I remember when I was caring you, your father was afraid that he'd hurt me. He's so much bigger than I am and…"

Elizabett waved her hand in the air to stop her mother, wrinkling her nose slightly at the thought. "Please, I'm getting a mental image. One I'd rather not have," she smirked uncomfortably. "I know the technicalities; I just don't need to think of my parents in that fashion, thank you."

"What? Do you think your father and I never have sex?" Marceilla teased her daughter with an impish grin.

"Oh, I'm sure you did…at least once," Elizabett twitched a smile back. "I just don't need the details." She was giggling uneasily now. "Do you think that's what the problem is?" She became serious again. "You think he's afraid of hurting me?"

"You won't know if you don't ask. Communication is so important in a relationship. You and Albus always seemed to be able to talk. Don't stop now. Ask him," Marceilla gently encouraged.

Elizabett glanced toward the kitchen door with a sigh. "I guess all I have to do now is get him away from Father. They've been so involved with the European dissention and politics, and what to do about the situation. They talk well into the night."

"Hmm, they're worse than old women at a spell-sharing gathering, but it also may be Albus' pretext to stay way from you." She glanced toward the door with a frown. "Leave it to me. I'll distract my husband, while you get a hold of yours." Marceilla winked as she rose and transfigured her homey, pale pink bathrobe into a silky, red penoire.

"Mother!" Elizabett exclaimed slapping her hand to her eyes and giggling. "Mental image!"

Marceilla grinned mischievously as she sauntered down the hall toward the study, her long greying brown hair bouncing girlishly off her back as she swayed. "Don't worry, dear," she called lightly over her shoulder. "I'll cast a Silencing Charm."

~~~***~~~

Albus puttered around the bedroom, obviously stalling the inevitable, while Elizabett sat with her back propped up against the pillows, patiently waiting, the crisp, cotton covers folded neatly over her lap.

"That robe is as neat as it's going to get. You've folded it three times already. Will you please stop pacing and come to bed," Elizabett invited, flipping down the covers on his side.

Stopping in the middle of the room, Albus turned toward her and nervously glanced around. "I think I heard something. I should go check." He headed for the door.

"I seriously doubt you heard anything, and if you did, you may not want to check. You saw the outfit my mother was wearing." Elizabett smirked bashfully.

Albus' cheeks flushed bright red, and he pressed his lips together. "I suppose you're right." He tentatively moved to sit on the opposite side of the bed beside Elizabett.

There was a moment of silence before Elizabett began. "What are you afraid of?" she quietly questioned reaching for his shoulder. "I'm not made of porcelain. I'm not going to break. Goodness knows we've gotten…umm…ardent in the past. Is it that you don't find me attractive anymore? I'm getting fat?"

Albus' head spun in her direction, a shocked expression on his face. "No!" he exclaimed firmly. "I just…you are… we, … well…" he sputtered helplessly, turning his face way from his wife.

"Talk to me, Albus. I don't know what's wrong, but I feel that, whatever it is, it's somehow my fault."

Albus heaved a heavy sigh, and his shoulders slumped. "It's not you. It could never be you." He hung his head sorrowfully.

"Then, what?" Elizabett asked, now very concerned.

Albus took a deep breath as if to plunge into unknown territory. Turning toward her, his face now scarlet, he began, "How would you like it if someone kept poking you in the head while you slept?"

"Excuse me?" Elizabett was completely baffled.

Albus turned away again for a moment, then turned his body to fully sit on the bed. "The baby. If I …if we have sex, then the poor child gets its head repeatedly knocked about. Can you imagine the damage that will do? I don't want to injure the child."

Elizabett pressed her lips together to stifle the chuckle. As brilliant as this man was, as much "research" as he had done on how to please her, he was still clueless about some things. Tenderly reaching for his arm, Elizabett ran her fingers down his sleeve. "Madam Prince said that the baby is well protected and that there should be no concern continuing our relationship right up until the last month."

Albus' eyebrows shot up. "The last month?" He bolted from his seat. "Wouldn't that be awkward and uncomfortable?"

"I have no idea. I've never experienced this before, but I'm willing to try." She looked up, wagging her eyebrows at her flustered husband.

"When did you speak with Madam Prince?" He gazed down at her.

"Right before we left. She had a few instructions for me to follow over the holiday."

"And everything should be alright?" Albus asked looking considerably more relieved.

Elizabett nodded.

Albus beamed at his wife. She was so beautiful, so innocent, so untouched by the impiety in the world. It was times like this when he could faintly see the pale, white aura glow around her. Drawing his arms up, he rapidly whipped off his white, cotton nightshirt. Standing naked before his mate, he grinned roguishly at her. His thin chest and bony knees made her smile. His rigid appendage made her giggle with anticipation. Scooting down, he joined her in the bed and quickly began to unbutton the long line of fastenings of her nightdress.

~~~**~~~

Petite served a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, buttered crumpets and strawberry jam, tea and juice. Marceilla and Julius were the first to arrive and were already pouring the tea when Elizabett and Albus appeared. The two couples greeted each other modestly and conversation was discreet and cordial.

"Did you have a pleasant evening, dear?" Marceilla smirked at her daughter over her teacup.

"Yes," Elizabett replied with a light flush as she reached for a slice of toast. "Quite eventful. Although, I'm not going to ask about your evening, not after seeing that ensemble you were wearing," she added while her father snorted into his tea.

"Women!" he muttered into his cup. "Men think they have everything under control," he grunted leaning toward Albus. "Women only let us think that. I swear, they have us by the…

"Julius!" Marceilla chastised with false shock.

"…nose," he ended innocently with raised eyebrows as if to ask, "What did you think I was going to say? Dare I ask how your evening was?" Julius continued cordially, reaching for the jam, and twitching a roguish smile. Then suddenly, he closed his eyes and held up his hand. "No. Don't say. That's my little girl you were with."

The two couples burst into laughter breaking the embarrassment and finished their breakfast in comfortable chatter.

~~~***~~~

The light breeze that blew over the edge of the bluff rustled the tall grass on the knoll. It was serene, far removed from the tensions that lay on the other side of the deep, blue sea. War ships could be seen in the distance, making their way to the busy port of Genoa, Italy. If one listened hard enough, they could imagine the roar of the guns on the other side. Clashes for territory had been happening in these parts for centuries, but it had been years since one had been this close, and the biggest battle was yet to come.

The old woman inhaled the fresh, salt air; drawing her diminutive height to its fullest and stretching her skeletal arms out to the sides. If a strong gust of wind blew up the bank, one would think that she would topple over her stance looked so precarious. But, she held herself firmly, leaning into the wind as years had taught her, and tipping her head to the cloudless, bright cerulean sky.

_Glorious God of Ruling Day_

_Fill me with strength, keep death at bay._

_Goddess be your mate in time,_

_And both of you, my heart be thine. _

_They're coming, Lord and Lady,_

_Cast out evil, admit the good, _

_Keep us safe as only you could._

The breeze wrapped its loving warmth around the aged witch spinning her wispy, white hair wildly and buffeting under the old woman's light robe. Smiling, she let the power surround her and knew deep within her heart that she was never alone.

~~~***~~~

"Grandmaman," Elizabett called as she knocked on the blackened, wooden door of the small stone cottage. "Grandmaman? Are you there?" she called again.

"She knew we were coming, didn't she?" Albus asked, a bit concerned.

Elizabett nodded gravely as she stood on the balcony, leaning her hands against the heavy timbered rail. "She can't have gone far," she paused, scanning the surroundings, fearing the worst. "Look," she finally beamed, pointing toward the Mediterranean and a small fleck of a figure inching its way down the bank. "There she is." Elizabett shook her head kindly. "Some things never change. She always did like the water…and the wind."

Albus followed Elizabett's finger, then reached for her hand, leading her down the stairs and across the waving meadow. Meeting the ancient matron in the field, the women hugged and a wizened hand spanned the tiny bump on Elizabett's abdomen.

The old witch closed her eyes and smiled broadly. "This is a joy, cherie." Then, she reached for her granddaughter's cheek and cupped it gently. "A child of love, but a child of strength. Be careful. Train her well."

"Her?" Elizabett raised a questioning brow.

"Her. Him. Better than _It_," the old woman dismissed absently with a sly smile as she reached for Albus' elbow, slipping her shrivelled fingers through the crook. "Ah, if I were not so old." She winked at the younger man. "You're very handsome," she leaned to whisper her comment close to his arm.

~~~***~~~

The warm sun had beamed for days, and Elizabett took the opportunity to wander the meadow collecting honeysuckle. Albus was set to follow, but Grandmaman Lestrange grabbed the back of his robe insisting that he sit with her giving Elizabett a moment of solitude. Silently, she rocked in her large chair on the spacious balcony while Albus sat on the narrow window bench, both gazing over the meadow toward the Mediterranean. This was the first opportunity that the two were alone, and they rested for the longest time, enjoying the tranquility of the waves rushing to shore, and the breeze rustling the grasses.

"Why did you do it?" Grandmaman finally broke the silence, her eyes staring determinedly across the meadow.

"Do what?" Albus quietly asked turning his head to question the old woman.

"You had no right." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but its resolve was distinct, her displeasure evident. "Not without her knowledge. I do not think Elizabett would deny you anything, and yet you deceived her." Grandmaman Lestrange remained unmoved, staring straight ahead. "What gave you the right to do this?" she asked dangerously, her eyes narrowing. "Who do you think you are?"

A thousand thoughts went through Albus' head in a matter of seconds. _How did she know? What did she know? How powerful was this tiny woman? Exactly how far back did the depth of the Earth magic go? How many generations were affected? Just how powerful would this child be?_ With each passing question, his mind slowly distanced from the emotional situation to a clinical one.

As if reading his mind, the ancient matriarch turned her head to hold him with her pale blue eyes, and this was when Albus noticed the resemblance. She had the same unusual eyes as Elizabett, pale irises with a navy ring encircling it. They were mesmerizing, and so beautiful, only hers were watery with age.

"Tell me." Her voice was low and steady, hypnotizing.

Albus broke the gaze and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, lacing his fingers and staring at his hands. There would be no fooling the wise crone. She knew too much. "It was our wedding night," he began sombrely. "I didn't want to ruin her expectations with such a request."

Grandmaman fixed her gaze and waited for more.

"There are difficult times ahead. Things will happen, and the Wizard world needs strong fighters. I wanted to ensure that our child would survive any battle. If the Goddess objected, wouldn't she have denied my request, pushed me away, or alerted Elizabett?" He tipped his head to look at the woman by his side.

"Maybe so, but your method was deceitful." Her white brow furrowed, but the element of mistrust on her face was beginning to soften, the curious taking over. "Why Ostara rather than Beltane? Beltane would have been more powerful."

"I'm no god," Albus confessed. "I could not make such a presumption. But Elizabett…I suspected the Goddess within her. Ostara is the time of new beginnings, of conception. Beltane should remain respectful to the union of the Goddess and God. I didn't feel right about it."

Grandmaman "hmphed" and leaned back into her chair, beginning to rock slowly again, silence settling around them. Gazing out over the field, she tilted her head to the sky as if gathering strength. "Your actions were deceptive," she reiterated. "You should have told her. If you had, the child would be more powerful than you could ever anticipate. Do not misjudge my granddaughter." The old woman turned to Albus with a chuckle. "But, it seems that you are in favour of the Goddess anyway. She has accepted you twice. This place is protected by Her power. If your heart was not of good intent, you would never have been let in."

Albus twitched a small, relieved smile at the crone.

At that moment, Elizabett waved from the meadow, grinning brightly, and showing her bouquet as she began her return.

Albus sighed, his lips curling up at her girlish enthusiasm. "Make no mistake Madam Lestrange. I love Elizabett. I do have regrets of casting this spell without her knowledge or consent, but I maintain my belief that it was necessary, if not in this generation, in the next. I have a dreadful feeling that things will get worse before they get better, and it may take years."

Grandmaman nodded slowly. "I have lived long and seen much, and I'm afraid I must agree with you. Treat her well. Keep your secrets if you must, but protect her always. She's worth it."

As Elizabett stepped up onto the balcony, Albus rose and scooped her adoringly into his arms, tenderly kissing her lips. "I love you," he whispered as he enveloped her slight body with his great height.

Satisfied, Grandmaman Lestrange grinned from her seat.


	30. 30 Acknowledging Evil

**30 – Acknowledging Evil**

The knot that formed in the pit of his stomach at the beginning of August festered and roiled for the weeks that followed. The old woman knew, had somehow sensed it, and that bothered him. Nicholas had once taken offence to Albus' dismissal that the crone was weak and feeble, and had warned him that she was not. Far from it. She possessed a strong, ancient magic, and would do what was necessary to protect her family as she had done for nearly a century. However, during the last visit, Nicholas had been supportive of the younger man, explaining that if the Goddess had objected to Albus' actions; he would not have been permitted to continue.

Nevertheless, a month later, the discomfort that he felt, that impression that gnawed at the edge of his conscience, still bothered him.

~~~***~~~

Morning owls whizzed through the Great Hall delivering letters to students below, and the occasional _Daily Prophet_ to the High Table. It had been an interesting start to the school year.

Elizabett was, by now, quite obviously pregnant. Her curves had become more pronounce, much to Albus' delight, and the baby bump was rounding out beautifully. Unfortunately, much to her distress so was her backside, and the imbalance sometimes made her waddle. However, the giggles and whispers that followed in her wake as she traversed between classes made her grin proudly. She didn't care what they thought. This was Albus Dumbledore's child she was carrying, and she was glad of it.

The young lad that Albus had met with over the summer awkwardly joined the student population. The Headmaster had made a request to the castle to adjust the rooms of Gryffindor House to accommodate the new scholar. At eleven years old, he was already nearing seven feet tall, and was not yet finished growing. He was clumsy and unrefined thus creating a variety of problems, one of which was the making of friends. Because of this, the shy and gentle giant became isolated until he found kindred spirits in Professor Kettleburn and Og. From his first Care of Magical Creatures class, young Rubeus was often found in the older men's company, helping with the creatures that he too had a fascination for.

Horace's demeanour toward Elizabett had softened since their last encounter in June. She smiled coyly while watching him over her morning tea. During the Memory Charm, she had added a small spell of her own to stop his suspicions of her and to lessen the tension between the trio. He was finally accepting her marriage to Albus and their impending parenthood. He had even assisted her, one afternoon, when she became trapped trying to descend the moving staircases. The pregnancy had left her short-tempered and emotional, and she had given up in frustration about halfway down, sitting on the stairs, head in hands, unable to go further. Horace valiantly made his way up and standing before her had quite gallantly tapped the banister with his wand, commanding that Professor Castlewood was not to be treated in such a manner. The staircases abruptly stopped, much to Horace's suppressed delight, and he helped Elizabett to her feet and down the rest of the flight. Albus had caught the last moment of the incident and joyfully reached to embrace his friend as they arrived the bottom. As annoying and possessive as Horace had been in the year prior to the marriage, Albus had missed his companionship. Now, it looked like their friendship was finally on the mend.

"Merlin's beard!" Professor Babbling loudly exclaimed drawing all attention in her direction as she dramatically shook her newspaper. "Well, they've done it again," she snorted disdainfully. "They should have seen it coming. Stupid Muggles!" she scoffed to herself.

Most heads at the High Table and many students within earshot turned to watch the opinionated professor.

"What have the Muggles done again?" Headmaster Dippet calmly asked the agitated teacher.

The aged professor violently shook the paper in the air. "War!" she fairly fumed. "That German fellow, what's his name, invaded Poland. Britain and France are furious. They've chosen to fight against him. It looks like their going to war. Bloody hell, it's happening all over again. Stupid Muggles. When will they ever learn?" she huffed as the paper was fiercely tossed back to the table and infuriately straightened out.

Elizabett could feel her throat constrict, and her breakfast rise from her stomach. She took a deep, calming breath and slowly released it. Feeling a warm squeeze over left her hand, she turned toward her husband and felt a comforting warmth flow through her. His eyes twinkled their sparkly blue, and her lips twitched upward at the corner in reassurance that she was all right.

Preparing to leave and head for the first class, Elizabett folded her napkin and placed it by her plate. Albus rose behind her to assist her up when a shriek sounded from the students as a large Peregrine Falcon swooped in scattering the remaining owls. The school population watched as the falcon gracefully circled the rafters much to the trepidation of the poor creatures huddling for solace close to the House tables and their owners. Spying its target, the falcon swooped down to drop a red envelop in front of Elizabett's plate.

Shocked staff members quickly moved away as Elizabett stared at the ominous missive. Soon, it began to shake and rise from the table. Then, it burst into hysterical, manic laughter before exploding into flames and landing in a heap of ashes on the pristine white tablecloth. Stunned faces turned in her direction, wide-eyed and questioning. Elizabett's eyes were the size of Galleons, and she could feel her entire body begin to tremble. She knew that laughter. She'd heard it before. He was taunting her, proving his point. He had done it, and it would only escalate from here.

"Dear? Who was that from? Are you all right?" Albus' concerned hand gently touched her shoulder, and she jumped at the contact.

"I have no idea," Elizabett could barely croak, answering both questions.

~~~***~~~

The voices outside the library rose in anger as several fourth-year Slytherin and Ravenclaw students faced off. The argument was tense, and one steeped in ignorant and conflicting views, also one that was rapidly spirally out of control.

Madam Olfield and Elizabett quickly approached the group from two different directions, the elderly librarian fussing at such a noise while the younger teacher stepped between the two leaders.

"What's going on here?" Elizabett demanded as she forced them apart.

Neither side said a word, glaring at each other with obvious hatred.

"Answer me," she insisted.

"It's nothing," one Ravenclaw boy crossly answered as he took a step back. "Just a difference of opinion."

Elizabett was unconvinced, but the fourth-years refused to speak. "Fine then," she huffed, "Your silence has earned all of you detention with me after school today. My classroom. Four o'clock."

Both sides glared at her angrily, but she stared them down. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spied a younger boy tucked into a small alcove partway down the corridor, as if trying to hide from sight.

"Tom, what are you doing here?" she asked the sullen second-year who reluctantly eased from his hiding spot.

Tom Riddle looked up from under his jet-black bangs, dark eyes piercing menacingly at the Muggle Studies teacher. Everything was going fine until _she_ showed up. Who was she to interrupt? He had planned this confrontation for a month, and it was playing out beautifully.

"Well, Tom." The young teacher persisted, folding her arms across her chest expectantly.

"Nothing," he quietly seethed, his eyes never leaving his target.

"Come on," Elizabett coaxed him more gently. "You're not in trouble. I'd like to know what this was all about, and these boys," she irritated directed toward the older boys, "seem to have lost their tongues."

There was silence for a moment, and then, Tom unexpectedly blurted out, "Who's to say that Hitler isn't a wizard. He's getting away with things that no Muggle should be getting away with."

Elizabett startled with the outburst as his housemates nodded in agreement, and the Ravenclaws angrily shook their heads in disagreement.

The Muggle Studies teacher smiled politely and released her arms. "That's an interesting point," she acknowledged. "He does seem to be doing some pretty powerful things, but, no, he's not a wizard, just a man with a lot of support."

"And, how do _you_ know he's not a Wizard," Tom boldly challenged, his face clouding over furiously.

Elizabett's eyebrows rose at his audaciousness, and she could hear a sharp intake of breath from the Ravenclaws behind her.

She patiently responded. "If he were a wizard, the government would know. They have a record of all wizards and witches: pure blood, half-blood and Muggle-born. No, Tom. Hitler is just a man. But, I must say, it's a very interesting topic. Though, one worthy of a classroom debate rather than a hallway brawl, don't you think?" She addressed the forth-years who nodded obediently. "All of you," she pointed to the older students, "I have in class this afternoon. This is something that we can continue there. However, you," she pointed to Tom, "as you are not yet in the Muggle Studies course, if you have any question, I'll be glad to answer them for you. We can meet in my office or the classroom, if you like."

Tom glowered at her with obvious dislike. "I know all I need to know about Muggles," his voice was low and measured. "I was raised by them remember."

Elizabett nodded. She'd let the issue with Tom drop for now, but she'd bring it to class and settle it once and for all. Hopefully, the others would relay the information to their curious classmates. However, Tom would need to be watched. She didn't like that look in his eyes. In Tom's mind, no Muggle could be that powerful. Elizabett could see something flicker behind his eyes, something ominous.

~~~***~~~

"He frightens me." Elizabett paced the living area of their chambers while Albus stoked the fire with his wand. "The look in his eyes when he talked about Hitler… I can see a reflection of something sinister behind them, almost like a perverse …admiration. Granted, the ideology of a stronger, more powerful race sounds appealing, but not at the expense of others. I'm certain there's more to it than we know, but I'm not a politician. I've studied Muggle psychology and how their society works, but I can't explain rational behind this, and I fear it's only going to get worse. Before you know it, Russia will be involved, and it could extend to the Americas. Australia has already shown support. Goodness. The entire world will be at war if we're not careful" She rambled as she rounded the sofa for the umpteenth time, brows furrowed in concern. Had Albus picked up on that last bit of information? Another one of Gellert's designs.

Albus calmly stood and grasped her shoulders lightly forcing her to stop. "You're a teacher, my dear. You're here to guide and enlighten, not provide a social commentary on the intricate political workings of the Muggle world. I agree, Tom has a "look" about him, a desire to control, and he uses his newfound power to do just that. You yourself suggested that he may have had a hand in this afternoon conflict, and you have stopped him in the past from coercing other students, both younger and older than himself. He's testing what he can get away with. This is part of his hunger to dominate."

"Hunger? You talk as if he wants to rule the world." Elizabett twitched an uncertain smile at her husband. "He's just a boy."

"He may be "just a boy"." Albus' eyes clouded over as he became extremely serious. "But, that boy will become a man sooner than the others simply by the life that he has led. He craves power; he desires to be the best, the strongest. I've watched him since he's been here, and have heard him talk amongst his Housemates. His admiration extends beyond Hitler to Grindelwald, as well. And, if you look at the qualities of these two men, Muggle or Wizard, it doesn't matter, what they stand for, what they want, is the same. I see this same yearning in Tom. It is, as you said, frightening."

"What can we do?" Elizabett appealed, her bottom lip unconsciously slipping between her teeth.

"Nothing, I'm afraid, but keep an eye on him. We have no proof and neither of us are Seers. The rest of the staff doesn't seem to share in our suspicions and concerns." Albus flopped into the corner of the sofa reaching his arm invitingly for Elizabett to join him.

Easing beside her husband, Elizabett curled her feet under her robe and tucked her arm over his chest, her chin nuzzling into his auburn beard. After a moment of comforting silence, she began to run her fingers through his beard. "I think I see a grey hair," she chuckled playfully picking at the curls.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Albus returned the grin, his blue eye sparkling teasingly. "Look what I have to put up with."

Elizabett feigned shock and began the hunt for that elusive ticklish spot.

~~~***~~~

Gellert sat before a roaring fire, a long, thin rod twirling delicately between his rough fingers. September had been immensely successful. Germany had been a good choice to play with. Its aggressive and determined government made it a prime target for his game. Now, everyone seemed to be turning against this small country, and they were fighting back with such fortitude. Even countries as far away as South Africa and Canada had declared war against them. Gellert chuckled to himself. October was showing great promise, as well. His contacts had relayed that Hitler had planned invasions of Belgium, France, Luxemburg, and the Netherlands, grand plans requiring strategic genius. He had always held a soft spot for France. It was such a lovely country. But, his private game of chess with the Muggles had expanded far beyond his dreams, far beyond anything he had anticipated, and he delighted in the fact that it now appeared that they would eventually kill each other off, and he could focus on other tasks. He grinned openly as he stared into the flame.

His September success hadn't stopped there, though. He had sent an entertaining little missive to Elizabett, once Britain and France had officially declared war. He wondered how she had reacted, how she had been able to explain such an odd letter, but he knew she'd understand the message. He had been victorious. He had won. Now, all he had to do was sit back and watch, just as she had predicted. _Ah, Elizabett_, he sighed. _You are my muse_.

There was a low groan behind him, and Gellert's attention was draw to the present. He sighed again, this time in annoyance. A traitor had been discovered and captured within his ranks, someone who had outwardly shown support for his grand plan, but criticized his actions behind his back, calling him mad. _HIM mad??_ Grindelwald snorted scathingly. He would make him pay.

Sinking further into his chair, he proudly held an elegant wand in his hand. It had served him well. Made of elder wood with a core of Thestral tail hair, it had once belonged to an old wand-maker. Grindelwald had absconded the wand several years ago, right before meeting Elizabett in Paris, and it was during their voyage through Europe as she innocently studied Muggles where he had "tested" its power. He satisfactorily snorted to himself, he had even tested it on her. Yes, it had served him well.

Turning in his seat, he lazily pointed the wand at the figure standing across the room. _"Crucio," _he softly commanded, his eyes narrowing in thought_._

The figure screamed, landing on his knees, only to be hauled to his feet again by two burly wizards in black robes.

"Krum, Krum, what am I going to do with you?" He languidly gazed up at the bleeding and beaten man. "I trusted you, and you turned against me. Tsk, tsk, if I cannot depend on you, then what am I to do?" He menacingly twirled the wand in his fingertips again.

"You're mad!" the older wizard cried. "I never agreed to murder for you. I will not torture for you."

"Hmm, and here I thought you were a friend. You seemed so supportive when you first joined. What happened?" Grindelwald glared at the broken man.

"I saw through you. You're actions are self-serving. You don't do this for the good of wizard kind. You do this for yourself, your personal entertainment." Krum spat on the polished, hardwood floor, bloody spittle dribbling from the corner of his lip. "No! I'll never follow you!"

Grindelwald stared at the stain on his once-clean floor, and pressed his lips together as if considering his next move. "Shame." He shook his head slowly, leaning forward slightly. _"Avada Kedavra!"_ was cast with such speed that the two wizards holding Krum in place were blown to the sides and knocked unconscious. As the deadly green flash subsided, Grindelwald's manic laughter filled the room. _Mad?_ _How dare he call me mad?_


	31. 31 Raw Nerves

**31 – Raw Nerves**

Albus' boot heels clicked loudly against the stone floor of the fourth level corridor as his long legs sped to the stairs at the far end. Descended two at a time, his teaching robes uncharacteristically billowing behind, students quickly cleared a path for their obviously distressed Transfiguration professor.

The dim November sun sat low on the horizon, and there was a light snow in the air as he passed the glassless windows of the outer corridor on the third floor. It was the end of the day. Dinner would be served soon, but the note had been urgent: _Your presence is required in the Hospital Wing. _Albus headed for the large, oak doors at such a speed that when both hands struck the panels, the doors swung open and knocked the walls behind, echoing loudly through the spacious chamber.

"What's happened?" he anxiously strode toward Madam Prince as she emerged from a curtained compartment.

"Oh, good. You got my note," she said efficiently as she placed the basin that she was holding onto a small table at the end of the next bed. "Things are not as bad as they look, but I think we've got the bleeding under control." She ducked back into the compartment holding some bandages before Albus sputtered a response.

_Bleeding? Under control? Oh dear, Merlin. _His heart raced, panic beginning to take over.

"There we go." Albus heard the mediwitch's kind voice from the other side of the curtain. "You rest for a day or so, and everything will be fine."

"What is going on?" He finally burst forth unable to suppress the anxiety. "Is Elizabett all right?"

"Of course, I am," the Muggle Studies teacher innocently answered as she pulled the thick, white curtain back to face her husband. "Goodness, Albus, your as pale as a ghost." She raised her hand to his cheek. "Are you all right?"

"Me? Are you? I received a note. It was urgent. Madam Prince said there was blood? What's happened?" His blue eyes bore intently into hers; his concern was obvious.

"I got bit," a rough, young voice spoke from the small cot. "I didn' think it would, but the li'lle scallywag bit me. Professor Castlewood saw me comin' wit' me hand wrapped, an' she brought me 'ere." Black, beetle eyes shone brightly from under a scruffy mane of thick, cocoa-coloured hair, his smile gleaming with pride at the bandaged hand.

Albus eased himself slowly into the nearest chair, staring at the young giant before him. His heart finally slowing its pace.

"Oh, Albus." Elizabett knelt in front of her husband, running a comforting hand down his sleeve, finally understanding. "You thought it was me?" She smiled comfortingly. "I'm all right. I saw Rubeus come in with Og and felt that he could use a little support."

"Oh, dear. It's my fault," Madam Prince scolded herself. "I should have thought. I'm so sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to alarm you. Young Hagrid is in your House, and being a first-year and all, I thought you ought to know that he'd been injured."

Albus' composed manner returned, and he smiled paternally to the boy. "How bad is it?" he asked with considerably less concern than he had arrived with.

Rubeus grinned back, a gleam shining in his black eyes. "No' bad a'tall. I've 'ad worse." He swung his trunk-like legs over the edge of the too-small bed and readied to leave.

"So, it's not your writing hand, then?" Albus' eyes twinkled mischievously.

"No, Sir," Rubeus replied, wiggling the fingers of his left hand. "Tha' one's jus' fine."

Albus' grin grew wider as he faced the boy. "Too bad, you could have had a few days off from taking notes."

"Notes?" Rubeus' brow creased in confusion. "I'm su'posed ta be takin' notes?"

Elizabett, Albus, and Madam Prince chuckled lightly at the naive youngster.

"Maybe it's time to start." Albus smiled genially. "But, for now, it's dinnertime, and I heard that the house elves were making treacle tart for dessert." Albus changed the subject, reaching to tap Rubeus' thick arm. "You go and enjoy your meal. I'll check in on you later."

As Madam Prince escorted the boy out, he called his thanks over his shoulder. Albus, then, turned his attention to his wife.

Startled at finding her in the same position, he asked. "My dear, why are you still on the floor?"

Elizabett sheepishly looked up from her spot by the chair that Albus had vacated, and replied, "Because, I'm off-balance and stuck. Give me a hand will you?" She reached both hands up for assistance.

Albus let out a hearty laugh as he moved behind his very pregnant wife and levered his arms under hers, lifting her to her feet. Drawing her into an affectionate hug, he squeezed her as tightly as he dared.

"You can't imagine what was going through my mind?" he whispered to the top of her head. "I was so worried."

She returned his embrace and tipped her head to kiss his cheek. "It's nice to be loved."

~~~***~~~

November crept into December, and the last session of classes came to an end. Elizabett had been uncomfortable all week, and Madam Prince had ordered her to relax for the final weeks of her pregnancy. A replacement teacher took her duties for the invigilation of exams, and she found herself restlessly puttering the homey quarters that overlooked the greenhouses. She'd had enough. Even simple spells were tiring and bending to put on her shoes was an impossible task. She was snippy and bad-tempered and didn't want to deal with anyone. The Holiday Feast was that night, and even though she felt like someone had placed an Engorgement Charm on her, she was expected to go. At least, the students would be leaving in the morning, and the castle would be reasonably silent for a few weeks.

Elizabett lay in the hot bath, her head propped up against a small cushion, feeling very much like a surfacing whale. Laying very still, enjoying the sensation that the baby was finally quiescent, she rubbed the taunt skin with a soft washcloth. The baby had been active all day and was taking a well needed break. With most of her body under the water keeping her warm, the large protrusion rose above the surface like a whale's hump with what looked like a waterspout on top. Her navel had finally turned inside out and was irritably sensitive when anything rubbed against it, much like everything else these days.

She had snapped at Bathilda that afternoon when the older woman stopped by to check on her, and had crumbled into tears, apologizing profusely to her friend. Bathilda had patted the younger woman's shoulder affectionately with patience and understanding saying that it was natural, and that it was merely her body's reaction that it was quite fed up with the extra strain.

Still, Elizabett felt sorry for her short-temper and prickly manner. Even poor Albus wasn't safe from her mood.

She had spoken to her parents earlier in the day as well, and Headmaster Dippet had arranged an emergency Floo connection, as Elizabett would deliver the baby in the Hospital Wing. They would be signalled when the time came.

It was comforting to speak with her mother, and her father had poked his head into the flame, adding his encouragement and best wishes. When Elizabett mentioned her poor temperament, Julius laughed and said that she couldn't be worse than her mother had been, for when Marceilla was carrying Elizabett, he had to be very careful of every move he made. He even recalled a time when Marceilla had pushed him out of bed, relegating him sleep on the sofa, because she demanded the space. It was funny to think of her mother in such a way. Marceilla was a small, soft-spoken woman, and Julius was considerably larger with a powerful disposition. To think of him being commanded by his tiny wife made Elizabett smile for the first time in days. It was Julius who suggested that she run a good, hot bath, cast a Silencing Charm, and lock the world out for a while.

Now, with the bathroom door closed, she enjoyed the quiet solitude of the moment, feeling the stresses release from her mind.

~~~***~~~

Albus apprehensively paced in front of the fireplace, the face in the flames flickering as they spoke.

"There's nothing you can do but wait," Nicholas reassured his friend. "Nature will take its course."

Albus knelt before the fire, speaking softly so as not to be overheard. "She's grown restless and hasn't allowed me close these last few days. It's as if she senses something. Last night, she brushed me away and turned her back to me in the bed. That's not like her."

"She's almost due, another week or so. I'm certain she's just sensitive," Nicholas encouraged fatherly.

Albus frowned, shaking his head slightly. "She's not usually so short-tempered. Everything I do seems to bother her. It's as if she's angry with me for something. I looked in on her in class the other day, and she yelled at me afterwards for interrupting. She never yells…well, not often."

"_Did_ you interrupt her class?" Nicholas' flaming brows rose in question.

"No, not really. I just poked my head in the doorway, and…well, the discussion did stop." He sighed heavily realizing his mistake.

"I think you're as sensitive as she is. Waiting is not easy, but she's the one carrying the responsibility, one you placed on her." He wagged a fiery digit at his friend.

"Without her consent," Albus guiltily finished. "I should have told her, asked her, explained the reasoning behind it. She would have gone along. I'm sure of it. We wanted a child."

"If you are so certain, then why didn't you tell her?" Nicholas questioned.

Albus shook his head. "I don't know. We've had a bond right from the start. She was, is, a friend. She's honest and straightforward. She's supportive of my endeavours. I trust her completely, but this?" He paused for a moment, his rambling becoming focused. "I don't regret _what_ I've done," he said firmly. "The child will be strong, and I'm certain that the Goddess will grant the powers needed. It's just that I feel like I've betrayed her, and lately, I sense that she's withdrawing from me, as if she knows and is angry."

Nicholas' flaming head nodded. "I remember when you began to speak of her. After so many years of hearing no one's name, and then Horace's, hearing her name so frequently and with such affection was a delight. I think you worry too much. She loves you. I can see it whenever you're together. The motivation for the conception should not be an issue. It would have happened eventually anyway…as those things do. And, you yourself said that you two wanted a child," Nicholas reasoned. "The future will play out on its own. Planning for it is one thing, obsessing over it is another. You're going to miss out on important things happening around you. She'll need your support soon. Be there for her. Love her. Let her know that you're with her…always, even when she's irritable." The old man smiled.

Albus' smile was small and uncertain, but he nodded to his friend. It was good to have someone to talk with.

As Nicholas faded from the Floo, the bedroom door opened, and Elizabett emerged wrapped in a soft, white bathrobe. Her dark hair was loosely clipped to the top of her head, wet tendrils dripping down her neck. She brushed them aside and moved toward her husband who still stood by the fire.

"Nicholas is gone?" she asked quietly.

Albus nodded, staring at his wife.

"I'm sorry I've been in such a foul mood." She fingered the edges of her robe feeling the tears beginning to well again. She had been feeling better when she got out of the tub. Why was she so teary now?

Albus took two long stride and enveloped her is his thin arms, trying as hard as he could to pull her close. She stiffened, and he stepped back, a look of hurt on his face.

"I'm sorry," she cried softly. "I just feel so uncomfortable all the time." She reached out to him, wanting to be held. "Just don't squeeze," she whispered as she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his chest.

Gently drawing her in, he felt the baby roll through her skin and against his abdomen. Feeling tears prickle in his own eyes, Albus tenderly kissed the top of her head.

~~~***~~~

The noise of the Great Hall was deafening as students feasted on turkey and stuffing, cranberries and squash, vegetables and puddings, calling to each other and laughing. Now that exams were over and the holidays were coming, they were in a jolly mood and were in the process of stuffing themselves into an immovable state.

Toasts were made at the High Table, and glasses clinked as staff congratulated each other on another fine semester and wished each other well for the holiday. Most would be leaving with the students the following day.

Elizabett shifted in her seat, and pushed the food around her plate. She hadn't been hungry all day and really didn't want to be there. Professor Merrythought held Albus deep in conversation, and Bathilda's shill laughter could be heard over the din of the hundreds of students. Professor Babbling was devouring the contents of her plate, oblivious of what was going on around her, and Professor Flaurance flirted with Professor Kettleburn across the length of the table. Elizabett finally decided to excuse herself. Awkwardly rising, pushing her chair back, she struggled to manoeuvre between the seats while making her hushed excuses.

Professor Merrythought raised his head and drew Albus' attention up.

"Leaving so soon, dear?" Merrythought warmly asked.

Elizabett smiled weakly placing her right hand over her abdomen. "I'm afraid I haven't been very sociable lately. I think I'll turn in early."

Albus made to rise, but Elizabett placed her hand on his shoulder. "No, you stay," she said kindly. "I'll be fine."

Giving her a short nod, Albus quickly returned to his conversation with Merrythought as Elizabett acknowledged Bathilda who looked up with sudden concern. Stepping down the back stairs to toward the antechamber, a wave of nausea struck, and she paused, waiting for the dizziness to subside. About half way down, another wave struck accompanied by a seizing spasm beginning in the centre of her back and coalescing in her lower abdomen. She gasped and stopped again trying to maintain her balance. Struggling to take another step, another contraction hit, and her knees began to buckle.

"No!" was shouted unexpectedly with a swift movement at her right, and a hefty arm grasped around her expansive waist stopping the tumble.

Horace held tight as those closest at the High Table jumped to their feet with the rapid movement of the stout Potions professor.

"I have you." He wheezed under her weight as Albus quickly reached her other side.

The two men held Elizabett upright as a look of sheer panic crossed her face, and a puddle formed between her feet.

"Oh, Sweet Merlin!" Professor Babbling cried waving a turkey wing in her right hand and returning to her meal. "She's having a baby for pity sake, not laying a golden egg!"

It was quite amazing how rapidly hundreds of students could suddenly go silent.

Madam Prince was at Elizabett's side in an instant, and Bathilda efficiently took Horace's place, leading the Muggles Studies professor toward the antechamber.

"I don't think we'll make it to the Hospital Wing," the Mediwitch announced.

With a flip of her wand, the doors to the back room flew open, and Albus and Bathilda half carried Elizabett to an ancient chaise lounge. Laying her back as another spasm seized, a pale white aura began to form around the pregnant woman, the Goddess making Her appearance. Albus could feel Elizabett's body warm with the glow and felt a well of pride for his wife. Bathilda's eyes grew wide with surprise as the glow intensified easing the labour pains.

"Don't let go," Elizabett begged Albus as she gripped his hand.

He held tight and smiled, but as he was about to speak, Madam Prince grasped his shoulders firmly and pulled him away.

"This is no place for a man," she resolutely stated, pushing him toward the door. "You wait outside while the women handle this situation."

Albus sputtered as Elizabett cried out in pain, the strain on her face and focus on what needed to be done temporarily erasing him from her mind. He backed out the door and heard the Silencing Spell cast. Dumfounded, he stood facing the ornate planks, and startled when a hand landed on his shoulder directing him back to the High Table.

"There's nothing you can do at the moment, and it may take a while." Albus spun at the sound of Julius' deep voice. The older man smiled. "The Headmaster was very quick in summoning us. Let's have a seat, shall we." He ushered Albus to a chair while Marceilla slipped past to attend her daughter.

Horace had taken Elizabett's spot, and Professor Merrythought gave up his seat for Julius. Albus numbly sat between the two, his back to the mass of students who refused to leave, staring at the closed door, imagining what was going on inside.

To break the tense mood, Horace clapped Albus on the back encouragingly. "Think of it this way, women have been giving birth since the dawn of time. They know what they're doing. She'll be fine."

Albus nodded in a daze, and there was a huff from behind the men as Professor Babbling roughly wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"You try peeing out a Gobstone, and tell me how you feel," she snorted cynically. "Women deserve a medal for childbirth. It's no easy feat. I'd say it rivals _Crucio _for pain." She gazed over her shoulder to the back room while the men within earshot of her comment delicately crossed their legs.

The first hour passed slowly. The juniors were finally ushered out of the Great Hall by Prefects while a number of seniors chose to stay behind; talking, playing chess, and waiting. A few staff members left as well, but surprisingly, Professor Babbling stayed, her curt comments and abrasive manner entertaining Julius, who chuckled amiably at the ancient professor.

They were into the second hour when a white glow began to form around the cracks of the antechamber doors. It was as if a blinding light was on the other side struggling to break through. Suddenly, the doors crashed open, and the light spilled out, reaching, searching, and encompassing Albus, lifting him to his feet and drawing him down the stairs. The others remained transfixed and held in their seats by the glow as Albus slowly entered the room.

Madam Prince knelt at the foot of the chaise, her hands between Elizabett's knees. Bathilda sat at Elizabett's head quietly encouraging, while Marceilla held her hand and dabbed her daughter's forehead with a damp cloth.

Albus stood in the closed doorway uncertain what to do, but the power of the aura pulled him to his wife.

Madam Prince looked up with a scowl. "I won't begin to question why this has happened. This is not a place for a man." Her tone was terse.

"But, it is the place for the father." Marceilla smiled. "You've been accepted," she directed toward the stunned man. "You're part of the circle." She rose to relinquish her spot to the wizard.

Elizabett grasped his hand, her pale blue eyes nearly white, a luminescent glow radiating from her skin, beads of perspiration forming on her brow, but there was a calm, peaceful comportment about her. She took a deep breath and without warning pushed, nearly bending in half, and making Albus jump. Leaning back to rest for a moment, she gazed at her husband, locking eyes, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Heiros Gamos, Ruler and Might…" she said calmly not breaking the connection as another contraction hit.

Albus felt a shock wave go threw him, every muscle in his body seized with pain, joining together and reaching from his back to his abdomen. He gasped, arching his back, and then folding his body in half, groaning.

Elizabett's smile was weak but amused. "Now you've had a taste of how it feels. I knew all along…but next time, ask."


	32. 32 Introducing Catherine Marceilla Dumbl

**32 – Introducing Catherine Marceilla Dumbledore**

"Look at that hair! Who has red hair in your family?"

"Ooo, the eyes. They're so blue."

"Shh, you'll scare her."

"Oh, she's scrunching her face. I wonder what she's thinking?"

"She's probably wondering what all the fuss is about and wishing we'd all leave her alone."

Soft laughter filled the cozy living area as Albus proudly held his daughter in his arms, snug and secure against his chest.

It had been nearly two weeks since that night in the Great Hall, a night that had changed his life forever. He and Bathilda had helped Elizabett to the antechamber where he had been quite unceremoniously tossed out by Madam Prince only to be summoned back by the Goddess herself to bare witness to the birth of his child. It was a miraculous sight. Although, to feel the pain that Elizabett was going through humbled him to her situation. He had gained a new respect for the petite woman.

When he had staggered out three hours later, silence fell over the waiting staff and students, a silence that was broke by three simple words. "It's a girl!" The cheer that rose to the rafters filled Albus' heart with a joy that he had never experienced before, and when he returned to his wife's side, he thought he'd burst as he watched the tiny creature suckle at her breast.

Now, he smiled to himself. Elizabett had known his secret all along, yet she had kept quiet, knowing that his guilt gnawed at his conscience. Although she wasn't furious with him, she was angry and had called him selfish, accusing him of being manipulative. Her silence had been her revenge for the concealment of his intentions, watching him grow increasingly uncomfortable with his decision. Yet, in the private days after Catherine's birth, they had talked in length, and Albus' concerns for the future were brought forth. Elizabett had to agree, the future was in peril, and in her sweet nature, she had forgiven him. She had had the same thoughts, although had never disclosed the true reason why.

"May I hold her?" Kalina asked, eyes bright and hopeful, an impish glint in her manner.

Albus relinquished his daughter to her waiting hands and grinned as Catherine quickly grabbed a handful of Kalina's golden locks tugging unmercifully and trying to shove the strands into her mouth.

Thomas laughed and gently pried the tiny grip as Kalina neared tears. "Serves you right," he quietly chastised as he lifted the diminutive creature into his arms, rocking gently and giving her his finger to grasp on to. "Have you never held a baby before?"

"When would I have the opportunity?" The young woman's eyes misted over. "_We_ don't have one," she pouted, but her protests fell on deaf ears as Thomas cooed at the smiling Catherine.

"You're a natural." Maude puffed in pride at her son. "Maybe one day, my dear." She patted Kalina's arm motherly, but Kalina remained sombre. Thomas had never even hinted at marriage.

~~~***~~~

In the weeks following Catherine's birth, there had been a string of visitors to the castle; family and friends from both near and far: the Castlewoods, of course, the Blacks and Malfoys. The Flamel's made a quiet entrance just after Christmas, and some of Albus' colleagues from the Ministry had popped in. Axius and his wife brought Grandmaman Lestrange for the New Year.

The old woman had grinned happily at the couple offering her blessings and reaching a gnarled finger to stroke the baby's downy cheek. Taking the child onto her lap as she sat in Elizabett's rocking chair, she nodded satisfactorily as they locked eyes, gazing at each other for a long moment as if considering the matters of the world.

"You will be strong, mon petite. I can tell," Grandmaman spoke softly to Catherine. "Your parents did well," the old crone praised as she slowly rocked.

Hogwarts had rarely seen such a constant influx of outsiders, but by the end of the third week the commotion finally settled down and quiet returned to the school. The small family would experience some peace before school began again.

~~~***~~~

A hearty wail echoed through the darkness making one parent bolt upright while the other buried their head under a pillow.

"One night. Just one night. When does she start sleeping through the night?" Elizabett moaned as she threw back the blankets and searched for her slippers. The only response she received was a grumbling snore from under the pillow. "Thanks. You're a big help," she groused in irritation at her sleeping husband. He rarely got up in the night claiming that he never heard Catherine cry. How could he not hear!! People in Hogsmeade could hear!

Stumbling toward the nursery, Elizabett sighed a tired smile when the crying stopped. Maybe she'd be in luck.

"Now, now, Mistress Catherine. You're maman will be her soon," a tiny voice soothed.

Entering the dimly lit chamber, Elizabett's smile grew as she watched Petite bounce the baby gently over her shoulder, the elf's floppy ears flapping with each movement, her skeletal arms belying their strength as she held the small form.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Elizabett praise her old friend.

Petite flashed a toothy grin at her young mistress. "Your Mistress Mother says Petite can stay as long as Mistress Elizabett needs. Soon Mistress Catherine will not need Mistress Elizabett at night, and Mistress Elizabett can sleep more, and Petite can take care of her."

Elizabett rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't that be nice," she said as she reached to take the baby from the little elf. Settling into her rocking chair, she opened the front of her nightdress to allow a hungry Catherine to latch on to a sensitive nipple.

Petite stood at Elizabett's side watching her little charge.

"You enjoy taking care of Catherine, don't you?" Elizabett spoke softly as she rocked.

Petite nodded, her bulbous eyes glistening brightly. "I like the little ones. They need much help and care."

"Too bad it was just me when I was young." Elizabett smiled tenderly. "It would have been nice to have a brother or a sister, someone else for you to take care of instead of just me."

"Petite is happy to serve the Castlewoods and the Lestranges. They are good people. Wizard families are not Bowtrickles. They do not multiply quickly."

Elizabett chuckled at the comparison as Catherine's eyes drooped closed, and she released her grip on the edge of Elizabett's nightdress. Gently raising the baby to her shoulder, she patted the tiny back while continuing to rock.

"Will you and Master Dumbledore have more little ones?" Petite asked as Elizabett rose.

"I can't say," she responded. "I think it would be nice, but I'd like to get through his experience first," she said as she lowered the baby back into the crib.

"Petite will always be here for Mistress Elizabett," the elf announced as she affectionately raised the blanket over the sleeping child.

Elizabett knelt in front of her friend. "Thank you for everything you've done. I know I can always rely on you."

Petite bowed her head politely with a slight curtsy. "Yes, Mistress. Petite is proud to serve the Dumbledores, too."

~~~***~~~

"I may be late tonight. I have correcting to do, and I haven't been to the lab in weeks. I really must take a look at the last research I did," Albus said as he gathered his satchel to begin the day.

Classes had been in for a few weeks, and routine was falling neatly into place. A replacement had been found for Elizabett's classes, but Elizabett was due back by Valentines. Petite would stay on to care for Catherine.

"This experiment has been going on for years. Will there ever be an end to it?" Elizabett asked.

"You know, I began this out of curiosity." Albus smiled. "But, I tell you what," he put his satchel on the edge of the table and turned to her. "At the moment, I've found eight uses for dragon's blood. When I reach twelve, I'll stop. Agreed?"

Elizabett frowned. "It's taken how many years to reach eight, and for the most part, there were few other distractions in your life. You have a wife and child now, plus your job here, and your work at the Ministry. Albus, there aren't enough hours in the day. I know this is your hobby, something you enjoy, but you tend to get obsessive with it and ignore everything else. I don't want you to ignore us."

"Never." Albus moved to hug his wife. "I love you far too much." His eyes twinkled brightly as he bent to kiss the tip of her nose. "I promise, twelve, and then I'll stop, and I'll try not to obsess."

Elizabett rolled her eyes. She knew him too well, but understood his compromise. "All right," she agreed with a defeated sigh. "Twelve."

~~~***~~~

Catherine fussed all afternoon, and Elizabett and Petite bundled up against the early February cold trudging toward the Care of Magical Creatures paddock levitating the pram over the uneven terrain. The sun was bright, and there was a wind gentle. The fresh air felt wonderful as it filled deprived lungs.

Professor Kettleburn had a class of fifth-years out keeping watch for some elusive creature near the forest edge. Although she longed to talk with her friend and associate with students again, Elizabett stayed clear for fear that Catherine's wail would disrupt their concentration and frighten away any creature that they were trying to watch. Diverting toward the path near the lake, Elizabett and Petite climbed the bank and retraced their steps back to the castle.

It was later in the evening, after dinner had been served, when Elizabett tucked a sleeping Catherine into her crib. She hadn't heard from Albus all day, and he had not appeared for dinner for the first time since the baby had been born. Something deep in her heart told her that this would not be the first time. His work was important to him, and she knew that he could lose himself in it, but she also knew that at some point, there would be a cost.

Dejected and lonely, Elizabett curled onto the sofa and pulled the down quilt to her chin. The fire burned low on the grate as she stared into the orange flame. Slowly, her eyes began to drifted shut, unsettling images, the semblance of dreams flitted at the edge of her subconscious, reality and illusion blending in the fog of an exhausted mind. She tossed fitfully, unwilling to accept her vision.

~~~***~~~

The firelight flickered shadows across the dark faces of the two men sitting in front of it. One calmly held a small glass of amber liquid in his right hand, a faint smile on his lips as he gazed into the flames, memories easing through his thoughts. The other man shifted nervously in his seat. His glass was now empty, and he hadn't been offered a refill, although, he really felt that one would be beneficial. Drawing his dry lips into his mouth to moisten them, he unconsciously cleared his throat, startling himself. This drew his companion's mind back to the present.

"So, you've seen the protégé," the host stated.

His guest nodded apprehensively.

"Does it look like the mother or the father?" the first casually asked as he leaned his head against the back of the chair, eyes never leaving the steady crackle of the fire.

"A combination of both," the guest tensely replied.

"Really? How?" The blond brought his right hand to his cleanly-shaven chin and rested on it.

"She has auburn hair like her father, but is fair-skinned like her mother," he quietly replied.

"The eyes. What about the eyes?" the first coolly pressed.

"Blue, but it's not uncommon for babies to have blue eyes, and both parents have blue eyes," the guest sounded confused.

"Ah, but Elizabett's eyes are unique. Of all people, you would have noticed. Does it have her eyes?" the blond impatiently pushed.

"All I remember was that they were remarkably blue, like a clear sky at mid-day." The man stalled.

"Such a poet." There was a slight chuckle. "But, that sounds more like Albus' eyes," he sounded disappointed. "Maybe this _was_ a child of love rather than a child of design," he thought out loud, and there was a moment of silence. "I expect you to continue watching and listening. I want to know if this child exhibits anything unusual. You will relay any and all information to me immediately."

The guest shot his host a nervous glance. "Unusual? What are you expecting? It's just a child. Besides, Hogwarts is protected. I can't just waltz in and out whenever I please. It would become suspect. I haven't been acquainted with them since the wedding."

"What I am looking for is none of your concern." Gellert narrowed his eyes threateningly at his guest, but he softened slightly as he drew a slow breath, a small, menacing curve playing at the corners of his mouth. "I have every confidence in you, Thomas. I'm certain you'll fine a way."

Thomas swallowed hard. How had he managed to get involved in this? Had he really been so angry with Elizabett to resort to such petty revenge? This was out of control, but he was stuck, and this man now held a threat over him that kept him in place. He loved Elizabett. He always would. How could he betray her?


	33. 33 Friends and Foes

**33 – Friends and Foes **

"And if I'm not back by morning, you're to give this letter to Master Dumbledore."

Elizabett knelt in front of a very anxious Petite. The events that had transpired that afternoon had indeed shaken the little elf.

About an hour before her Mistress and Master returned from the Quidditch match, a rather large and imposing Peregrine Falcon had swooped onto the terrace, tapping forcefully on the oversized, pane glass window. When Petite opened the casing, the bird boldly flew in, unceremoniously dropping its missive onto the kitchen table. It eyed the diminutive elf superiorly before abruptly exiting in the direction from which it came. The letter was addressed to the Mistress, and Petite had a dreadful feeling about it.

"Everything should go as planned, but I want you to be prepared, just in case," Elizabett reassured the dedicated house elf as she rose and pulled her simple, black, wool cloak tightly around her thin shoulders as if to protect herself from unseen forces.

Entering the dimly lit nursery and bending over the edge of the crib to kiss her sleeping daughter "good bye", she stroked the soft cheek, love and fear being pushed to the recesses of her mind. It would do no good to walk into the lion's den with such tender thoughts so close to the surface.

~~~***~~~

"What a game!" Bathilda exclaimed as the staff chattered their way down the steep steps of the Quidditch stands.

"Slytherin verses Gryffindor is always a good match," Horace proudly called as his chest puffed to stretch his jacket. His House had won, but only just.

The game began right after lunch and had lasted for several hours, but even with the brisk March wind, the crowd huddled under House-colored blankets, scarves and hats, no one wanting to leave the excitement. Emerald and crimson players dove and jousted, taunting each other, and playing with remarkable skill. Albus had abandoned his experiment for the day to join Elizabett and the others, encouraging his House, waving their flag and cheering himself hoarse. It was a good day.

Laughing on their way back to the castle, Albus reminded Elizabett of his visit to Nicholas' that evening. He would leave right after dinner and spend the night, but promised to devote the following day to his family. It had been a while since he had visited his friend, and Albus wanted some time to catch up. He also needed to another perspective on his latest experiment, and Nicholas was always willing to offer his opinion. Elizabett and Catherine had been invited as well, but the young mother had declined, not wanting to subject the baby to magical transportation quite so soon. She felt the child was still too young. Besides, Elizabett was tired from the day and was looking forward to cuddling up with her daughter and heading to bed early.

This, however, was not to be.

Catherine was napping when Albus and Elizabett entered their quarters, and Petite silently sat on a small stool in the corner of the nursery, anxiously waiting. When Albus headed to the washroom to clean up for dinner, Petite quietly approached her mistress, a small, white envelope clutched tightly in her skeletal hand, a nervous look on her face.

Holding the missive with an outstretched hand and bowed head, Petite took a step back and waited as Elizabett took it.

Curiously unfolding the crisp parchment, Elizabett saw her peaceful evening disappear as her stomach felt like it filled with led. Closing her eyes against what was to come, she knelt to the little elf. "Don't tell anyone," she whispered gravely, as Albus emerged from the other room smiling and ready for dinner.

~~~***~~~

The path to Hogsmeade was empty, and the night air was damp and cold. Disapparating from the confines of the small grove of trees near the boundary gate, Elizabett hop scotched from Hogsmeade to Dover to Paris to Budapest. Although tired from the day and the multiple apparitions, she couldn't show it. She'd traveled this route before, many times, and ever since Catherine was born, she had been working hard to increase her stamina and endurance. She felt that it would be need in days to come.

The old black and white manor house that stood apparently abandoned in the oldest section of Budapest hauntingly called to her as she waited on the opposite side of the street gathering her strength. This would be the first time in months that she had been in contact with him, and she didn't like the idea of having to go all the way to Hungary in the middle of the night. But, his summons had been clear and demanded immediate attention. She had made him wait, not entirely on purpose, but it gave her the upper hand. It showed that she was compliant but would not be coersed. He had never cast _Crucio_ on her in the past, but that didn't mean it could never happen. The young woman tucked a loose strand of dark brown hair behind her ear, her heart-shaped face tipped toward the neglected structure.

Casting _Occlumens _and a strong Protective Shield, Elizabett stepped off the curb and crossed the cobble road, pushing the decrepit iron gate open, and confidently striding up the front steps. The peeling, black, front door automatically opened, inviting her in.

The main entranceway was dimly lit by twin sconces on the opposite wall, the dark wood and upholstery of the room absorbing what little light was emitted. Taking a deep, soothing breath, Elizabett moved toward the open door of the study. Standing in the doorway, her eyes adjusting to the darkness, she heard a disembodied voice from somewhere by the fireplace.

"I've been waiting," Gellert's tone was as cold as the bitter breeze she had left in Scotland.

"You can't expect me to simply drop everything and run to your side. In order for me to keep your secret, discretion is required. I had to plan my departure," Elizabett matched his cool demeanor.

He leaned forward slightly and looked around the edge of the large winged chair,

his face shadowed by the darkness of the room and the flickering light of the fire. Drawing his wand, he aimed it at the chair's mate, turning it to face him.

"Please, sit," he offered softly.

Removing her cloak and placing it over the back of the seat, Elizabett sank into the chair's comfortable warmth. Folding her hands loosely on her lap and feeling her wand in the folds of her navy, woolen robe, she watched her host resettle.

"Would you care for a drink? A brandy, perhaps, to warm you?" he graciously offered.

"Tea would be more my taste," Elizabett evenly replied.

A twitch of a smile played on the corner of his lips. It wasn't malicious, but more serene as he flicked his wand toward a teapot on the sideboard near the window, magically levitating the tray to a small table between them.

"Then, tea it is," he responded genially.

There was a moment of silence as he poured, and Elizabett waited. The clock above the mantle struck one, and Gellert raised his head to the timepiece. His lips twitched as he passed the cup to his guest. "It's late. Won't your husband miss you?" he tested.

"No" she calmly answered. "He's otherwise occupied, and there is a two hour time difference. It's only eleven o'clock there."

Gellert slowly nodded. "How is your little one? I heard you had a girl. If she takes after you, she must be lovely." His pleasant conversation was a bit unnerving.

"She's fine, and I'm certain you didn't call me all this way in the middle of the night to discuss my daughter," Elizabett raised her chin guardedly watching for a reason for his friendliness.

"Mmm," Gellert's affable demeanor was becoming suspect. "I was just being social. No need to be defensive." He paused, that twitch of a smile contradicting his cold eyes. "You know," he spoke softly but clearly, "you are the only person I can truly open myself to without fear of betrayal." His face began to harden, transforming that upward curve of his lips into the Gellert she knew: menacing and shrewd.

"What's going on that you need me to unburden yourself?" Elizabett steepled her fingers under her chin and resting further into the chair, ready to listen.

His smile grew, and, thus, it began.

"The Muggles have gone far beyond anything that I could possibly anticipate," he laughed lightly, a smug look on his face. "I cannot help but admire this man, Hitler. His command over the people… his concept of supremacy… quite remarkable…and his strategies…multilevel attacks, diverse techniques…" He shook his head, seemingly in awe.

Elizabett chuckled. "You do realize that you just admitted to admiring a Muggle?"

He snorted derisively. "Ridiculous," he denied, but paused in thought. "And it will never leave this room." His eyes narrowed warningly. "He and I share a common belief – strength through a pure race – only he's foolish enough to eliminate his own kind, not recognizing that they are indeed the same." He shook his head again. "A fool with power is a dangerous thing."

Elizabett gazed at him. Gellert was no fool, but a wizard with a great deal of influence and support. His cunning went beyond a desire for power.

Gellert and Elizabett talked until the darkness of night gave way to the grey streaks of dawn. It was as if he needed the release. He had very few future plans but relayed that "his people" were well placed in various military and government institutions throughout Europe and were keeping him informed of developing situations. As predicted, it had reached a point where, for the most part, he merely sat back and watched as the Muggles eliminated each other. However, he did let on that when it looked like things might be resolved, he put his hand into the pot and stirred things up. He seemed very pleased with himself.

As the conversation came to a close, Gellert became somber as if wondering whether to continue. Elizabett patiently waited.

"The Muggles in Germany are planning an attack within a month or so. It will be precise and efficient, a coordinated assault on several countries at the same time. I will oversee some of it myself," his lips slightly but arrogantly curved upward, but the crease between his brows deepened in thought. "I will warn you of this, though, and will allow you to protect one individual." He wagged a single finger in front of him.

Elizabett's eyes burrowed into him. Sentiment? A trap? She couldn't decide, but his jaw flexed as if he were trying to decide his own mind. Finally, he spoke.

"The attack will be focused on the Netherlands, Luxembourg, Belgium, and…" he paused, "France." He watched as Elizabett recoiled slightly. "Axius has been informed. Italy will be involved. There is concern that they will cross from Genoa. Your grandmother is a powerful woman, but even her protections may not hold. The Wizard world should not lose one such as her."

Elizabett sputtered, not knowing how to respond. Gellert was showing admiration for her grandmother. This could be a weakness. "I'm very grateful," she finally uttered. "How long do I have?" Elizabett asked, testing the extent of his knowledge.

"Until the beginning of May. Axius says that she has lived on that hill for nearly a century, and doubts that she'll move. I suggest the family gather forces to fortify her home."

Elizabett nodded. She knew her grandmother's powers were great, drawing on ancient magick, but were they strong enough to withstand the new Muggle technologies of war, their instruments of death?

Elizabett left as the yellow sun rested on the dull horizon. Gellert remained in his seat, satisfied with the evening. He truly enjoyed his conversations with Elizabett. There was something about her that stimulated him. Gazing into the dying embers, a small smile played on his lips as his mind schemed. He knew she would do what was necessary to protect her grandmother. This may draw her into using the powers she hid so well. If they were passed through the generations as legend told, the combined strength would be something to behold. He would anxiously wait and watch.

~~~***~~~

Elizabett never used a Silencing Charm when she slept, but was beginning to think that maybe she should start. She'd only been asleep for a couple of hours before Catherine's cry rang through the living quarters. Petite quickly hushed the child, but the swelling pain in Elizabett's chest told her that she would have to get up. She'd been weaning Catherine but still nursed her first thing in the morning and again before bed. Swinging her legs over the edge and slipping her feed into cold slippers, she sleepily shuffled into the living room.

Petite was carrying the baby over her shoulder, bouncing her lightly, when Elizabett entered.

"It is good to see Mistress home safely," the little elf gazed up with relieved bulbous eyes as Elizabett retrieved her child. The devoted house elf had waited up for her Mistress last night and stayed alert until Elizabett tucked herself into bed.

"There's always worry when I go to the continent, and although I didn't like where I was going, I knew I wouldn't be harmed." She reassured as she rocked Catherine gently in her arms, cooing at the baby.

"The Muggle war could harm Mistress," Petite fretted. "What could be so important that Mistress would go without telling the Master, and go so late at night?" The little elf's hand flew over her mouth, and Elizabett could see the restraint strain through her body. Petite desperately wanted to knock her head against the side table for questioning her Mistress, but such self-destructive behavior had been forbidden in the Castlewood and Dumbledore households. "Forgive Petite," she pleaded with teary eyes. "It is not for Petite to question," she began to cry.

Elizabett knelt before her servant, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You question because you care. There's no shame in that. All I can tell you is that I'm trying to help make a bad situation better. I'm bound to secrecy, but am trying to find ways around it. You know I would never cause harm to anyone. I'm trying to prevent it."

Petite nodded and wiped her eyes with the edge of her pale pink apron. "I trust Mistress Elizabett. I will help whenever she needs," Petite bravely held her chin up.

~~~***~~~

Albus' promise of spending the day with his family faded as morning turned to afternoon, and he still hadn't shown up. He sent no message, and Elizabett, in her disappointment, chose to venture to Hogsmeade with the baby. The walk would do her good, and the crisp, early Spring air helped clear the cobwebs from her mind.

So much had come forth in last night's marathon discussion with Gellert, and she still whirled from it. Had he really warned her to protect her grandmother? There had to be an ulterior motive, or did he sincerely feel that she was worth protecting? Either way, Elizabett was grateful. Axius knew, but could she rely on him to inform the family, or should she formulate a plan? Gellert had said, "May". That should be more than enough time to figure something out.

As the pram, jostled slightly in the breeze, Elizabett made her way down the gravel path to High Street then toward the Town Square. The mist that rose from the Square's fountain sparkled in the weak sun, and Elizabett rested on the ancient park bench to admire the glittering display.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A deep voice startled her from a daydream.

Smiling up at the newcomer, she shifted, making room on the bench for the man to sit. "Yes, it is," she replied softly while reflexively rocking the pram with her left hand. "What brings you here?" she added with a friendly grin.

"Would it embarass you if I said "you"?" he asked roguishly, narrowing his eyes lasciviously and wagging his dark brows at the young woman at his side.

Elizabett feigned shock then chuckled lightly. "No, but I don't believe you," she playfully batted him with her right hand.

"Fine, have it your way," he sighed with false dejection. "I met a friend for lunch at the Simmering Cauldron and chose to wander the village afterward. I miss this place," he waved his hand toward the antique buildings. "It has fond memories." Thomas leaned back against the hard slats of the bench, resting his elbows casually across the back. "And what brings you out on this chilly afternoon? Where's Albus?"

"Oh, Albus is visiting a friend," Elizabett responded amiably, "And, I needed to get out for a while. Besides, the fresh air makes Catherine sleep better." She unconsciously peered over the edge of the pram at the sleeping baby who was bundled comfortable and warm in a furry, white bunting bag.

Thomas leaned forward to gaze in as well. "She beautiful," he whispered, "just like her mother," he smiled warmly at his old friend. "Three months now, am I right?"

Elizabett nodded.

"Ah, what a life," Thomas grinned as he reach into the pram to pull down the edge of the blanket for a better view. "Eat, sleep, have others wait on you hand and foot. I've no experience with babies. When do they become human?" he joked.

Elizabett laughed. "What do you mean? She is human! She can laugh…and, oh boy, can she cry. Quite a set of lungs. She's started to make sounds in response to things and recognizes people. She loves Bathilda but let out quite a shriek at Horace the other day."

"So, she's intelligent, then," Thomas nodded in approval, leaning back in the seat.

Elizabett batted at him again, and he playfully rubbed his arm.

"Of course, she is."

"No magic yet?" Thomas probed.

"Goodness, no," Elizabett snorted. "She's far too young for that. I read that most magical babies don't show any sign of magic for the first year. There have been the rare occurances, but they were definitely impulsive, not directed."

Thomas gazed off in the distance, and a comfortable silence fell between the two friends.

"Kalina's been pushing to get married," Thomas finally confessed. He was solemn and avoided her eyes. "She wants the whole domestic package: house, elves, children," he drifted in thought.

"She's a lovely girl, and you seem to get along well. What's your problem?" Elizabett innocently asked.

Thomas twitched a crooked smile. "Don't get me wrong, Kalina is quite something, and we do have fun together, but when I think of the future," he shook his head, "I can't see it. Is that a bad thing?" Thomas glanced over at his friend.

"Sad, not bad. Oh, Thomas, I hate to see you unhappy. Is there anything I can do?" Elizabett placed her right hand on his sleeve in comfort.

He sighed sadly and paused, gazing at her hand and carefully weighing his next words. "I've missed you, Lizzie. I've missed our friendship. I know it didn't work out between us, and I accept that you've chosen someone else, but could we still be friends? I really could use a friend." He placed his hand over hers but didn't raise his eyes.

Elizabett wasn't sure what to do. They'd known each other since they were children, and she had to admit that she'd missed his companionship these past two years. Placing her left hand over his, she smiled sweetly. "I'd like that," her voice was barely above a whisper. "I've missed you, too."

Thomas' smile was weak but satisfied.

A stir and a whimper from the pram had both Elizabett and Thomas stand to look in. Bright blue eyes stared out from beneath the soft, white blanket and fixed on Thomas. With a content "coo", Catherine struggled to reach her arms up, waving them under the cover.

Elizabett smiled. "She likes you, otherwise the entire population of Hogsmeade would know by now."

Thomas' grin broadened, and his face glowed with delight as he reached to stroke a tiny mittened hand.

"It's getting late. I should be heading back to Hogwarts. This one is going to need feeding soon," Elizabett prepared to leave.

"I'm really glad we met. Could I see you again sometime?" Thomas was hopeful.

"I'd like that," Elizabett gazed at her friend. "Unfortunately, beyond my school schedule, I never know what's going on more than a day or so in advance. It makes planning things rather hard."

"Owl me. Any time. I don't want to lose you as a friend. You mean far too much to me." Thomas reached to give Elizabett a gentle hug.

Escorting her to the boundary gate and watching as she carefully traversed the path back to the school, Thomas let out an inaudible sigh of relief. Grindelwald couldn't win. He had to find a way to keep Elizabett and Catherine safe. He really didn't care about her half-blood husband. Albus could fend for himself, but Elizabett still held his heart.

~~~***~~~

It was the time of day that Albus hated the most. The sun had set, and the moon and stars still had not yet risen, leaving the evening sky an inky black. He had lost his footing twice already on the slippery path from Hogsmeade as he hurried toward the castle. Elizabett was going to be so angry. He had broken his promise to her. He and Nicholas had locked themselves in the library upon his arrival last night and hadn't emerged until late in the afternoon. Then, agreeing to stay for early tea, they lost track of time again.

He had stopped in Hogsmeade on the way through and convinced the owner of the Olde Sweet Shoppe to open the store so that he could buy Elizabett a gift. It wasn't much, but she'd been craving almond bark for a week. Hopefully, this would appease her to some degree.

Striding the trail through the trees and up the expanse to the front doors, Albus thought of the conversations he had had with Nicholas. Not all had been based on the experiment. They had talked about the upcoming Muggle war, of Grindelwald's obvious influence in it, and how the Wizard world would be affected, and of Catherine, and what unique powers the child may possess. Nicholas suggested that Albus and Elizabett keep a close watch on the child especially when they were out of the castle. Gindelwald's reach was extensive, and Catherine would be quite a prize. He had also given Albus some advice on how to test her abilities even at such a young age. He wondered if Elizabett would go along with it. _After all, it would be parental curiosity_, he justified.

Making the last turn down the corridor toward their quarters, Albus felt the small package in his cloak pocket. _Maybe I should have bought more_, he thought taking note of the late hour.

Steeling himself for her wrath, he gave the password and quietly opened the door.

The living area was dimly lit by the flickering of the fire on the hearth, and his eyes adjusted to the faint light. Easing in and silently hanging his cloak on a hook behind the door, he noticed a lump of blanket on the sofa. Sheepishly, he approached his wife and bent to kiss the tiny bundle in her arms. Elizabett's eyes fluttered open.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Albus apologized. "We lost track of time."

"No kidding," Elizabett croaked with a disused voice, her left eyebrow easing up with displeasure. "I should have expected this," she struggled to sit up.

"I brought you something," he guiltily pulled the Sweet Shoppe package from his pocket, and handed it to his seated wife.

Handing the baby to Albus to place in a small basinnette by the hearth, Elizabett took the peace offering. Unwrapping it, a small, reluctant smile crept over her lips, but she worked to hide it. "You left me alone today without a word of when you'd return. I was looking forward to our plans. Do you really think a pound of chocolate will buy me off?" She rose to confront her neglectful husband.

Albus pressed his lips together, unable to think of what to say. She was right.

Stepping within a breath's distance, Elizabett firmly grasped the front of Albus' robe with her right fist. "Oh, no, my dear," she warned, "I want a pound of flesh," she brazenly smirked, wagging her brows at the flustered man.


	34. 34 Protecting The Family

**34 – Protecting the Family**

_Protego Totalum. Salvio Hexia. Repello Muggletum._

Twelve wands were held in a high circle, pointing in an arch over the ancient stone cottage, the herb garden to the right of the main building, the Apparition point near the trees in the rear, and over parts of the meadow that grew the marigold. The chant was in unison, sounding more like a powerful war cry than a collective attempt to ensure the safety of the family matriarch.

Axius had contacted Elizabett and her parents, relaying his concern of increased tension in the Muggle war and how close it was getting to Grandmaman Lestrange's home. He suggested, as a precautionary measure, that the family gather at the end of April, to reinforce the existing fortifications. He felt that the combined powers of those closest to Grandmaman would ensure her security.

Elizabett was relieved that Axius had finally come forward. She had expressed her own fear to her parents and had recommended that they do something about it, but as they were beginning to strategize, Axius' owl arrived with firm instructions of what he had planned. It was a good plan, too, and Elizabett was pleased that he had finally made his move. _Never underestimate the power of family_. Grandmaman had once said. _Axius would never betray me_. Elizabett had once had her doubts, but now, she had faith.

As the spells were cast, the strength of the energy formed static strands between each wand, weaving to create an unyielding, defensive dome over the house and immediate grounds. As the wands were lowered, the glittering glow remained for a few moments before fading into an invisible Protective Shield.

The family gathered in the front of the house, shaking hands and patting backs, proud of their efforts. The fortification would be strong. Axius, his wife, his oldest son and his wife, plus the two younger sons had participated, along with Marceilla and Julius, Elizabett and Albus, and Grandmaman and her youngest brother whom Elizabett rarely saw.

Gathering on the ridge that overlooked the Ligurian Sea just left of the Mediterranean, the family's festive mood changed as they solemnly gazed across the darkening expanse to the distant shore of Italy. There was a heaviness in the air that everyone felt, and the hair on the back of Elizabett's neck prickled as she picked a sleepy Catherine out of the pram to gently rock her in her arms. Axius was visibly troubled but voiced no concern. Gellert had warned him of what was to come, and Axius knew where it was coming from, but said nothing.

As the full moon sat on the horizon, shining bright over the water, Grandmaman summoned the four generations of the Lestrange female bloodline. They would cast their own protections with the rising Goddess.

Walking clockwise around the perimeter of the house, the women took their positions. Grandmaman proudly stood in the Northern quadrant, behind the house near the trees, facing the water. This point was the foundation of life represented by the ancient and wise crone of the family. The remaining women continued the circle, and Marceilla took her place in the Western quadrant, the position of the aging mother, the balance between calm and chaos. Leaving her mother's side, Elizabett claimed her spot in the Southern quadrant, in the front yard of the house, her back to the sea. Although too old to be the maiden, she was the closest in age and spirit for she held the fire and determination, the unbridled desire to fight for the just cause. She, then, walked to the Eastern quadrant and placed Catherine on a blanket, on her back. This was the position for the youngest family member. And, although Catherine was far too young to fully participate in the rite, the crone was certain that the Goddess would recognize the intent. Elizabett returned to her place, and the four generations of ancient Earth magick prepared to join their powers for a single, necessary purpose.

Raising their open hands to the sky, the three women stretched their arms and tipped their heads back to begin the ritual. Catherine gurgled and wiggled, flailing her arms joyfully in the cool, night air.

The blessing was soft but clear, like a well-rehearsed chorus. They had done this before.

"May the power of the One, source of all creation,

May the Goddess of the Moon, eternal mother to all,

May the God of the Sun, horned hunter of life,

May the power of the spirits, and the rulers of the elemental realms

Bless this place, this time, and know that our hearts and spirits are with you."

The hands and heads were lowered for a moment of silent reflection, and then simultaneously each woman powerfully raised their wands to the sky with their right hand, their voices strong and clear with conviction.

"Gentle Goddess of the night

Meet us in this circle site,

Praises to the stars and moon,

Join us in this circle soon,

Power and spirit energy flow

Protect us Goddess with what you know."

The wands remained high for a moment before being lowered. Left hands were raised, first and last fingers extended while the others tucked toward the palm. Faces rose to the sky again, and the trio chanted.

"Horned Hunter, God of the Sun,

Meet us here when day is done.

Praises to the light so bright,

Join us in the circle tonight.

Power and spirit energy flow,

Protect us God with what you know."

Pausing, the women tucked their wands into the folds of their robes, raising their right hands again, the fist finger and thumb extended creating an L-shape while the other fingers tucked down. With both hands above their heads, they crossed their wrists to represent the unity of the two deities, and waited for the glow of a white aura to begin its path.

Slowly, a glistening, silvery strand emerged from Grandmaman's crossed wrists, stretching to Marceilla's, working its way to Elizabett's, connecting the three women. But, the circle was incomplete. The strand had left Elizabett's wrists to hover in mid-air above Catherine as if considering the fourth member. The trio didn't move, waiting patiently for the Goddess' decision, but the rest of the family on the ridge stood anxiously watching.

"What do we do?" Axius' youngest son asked uneasily.

"Nothing," his father quietly replied. "We wait."

"Does the Goddess not accept Catherine?" Albus worried. Had his expectations been too high?

The family nervously stood watching as the unfinished strand lingered. Then, without warning, the end gently tipped down toward the sleeping child as if to give her a nudge. As the white shimmer approached the small bundle, tiny hands rose above the blanket to grasp the glow, connecting the four generations. Then, the aura continued back to Grandmaman to complete the circle.

An audible sigh sounded from the ridge, and the final chant began.

"Goddess and God, Mother Earth and gracious guardians, strength of generations together, we are one,

As much as you are all powerful, you are a part of who we are, part of our souls,

It is you who gives guidance and strength.

It is us who reveres you.

In the name of the One of Creation,

We ask your protection over this place and the mother who lives here.

The non-magical realm battles each other far too close to one of your children.

Their machines of destruction work in ways that we do not understand.

Please protect one who has spent her life devoted to you."

The aura shimmered for a second, then instantly solidified, encompassing the house and the witches in a semi-translucent, white dome. It pulsed for several minutes, and the family, standing several meters away, could feel the tingle of energy being emitted. It was like static rarely felt before.

When the glow diminished and finally faded away, Grandmaman, as the eldest, released the circle. Elizabett gathered Catherine into her arms and gave her a proud and loving kiss on the forehead as Marceilla and Grandmaman joined her.

"I never had a doubt," cackled the old crone lightly as she chucked the baby under the chin with a gnarled finger.

Marceilla affectionately wrapped her arm around Elizabett's shoulders as they met the rest of the family in front of the cottage.

"That was amazing," Albus' eyes shone with pride as he reached to encompass his wife and child with his long arms. "I've never seen anything like it." His voice was reverent.

"It is something we keep to ourselves," Grandmaman amiably warned. "For centuries the Lestrange women have held a connection with the Goddess. Old magick, Earth magick is the foundation of all magick. It cannot be ignored, but many have lost the wisdom of it, and some fell away from it for a while," she twitched a knowing smile at Elizabett, "but if they are wise, they realize its strength and return."

"In this time of discontent, there are many who would use this gift unwisely, or try to pervert it. It is best to keep such things quiet," Marceilla added with concern.

"I understand," Albus nodded solemnly appreciating that he had witnessed something extraordinary.

As the night progress, the family began to disperse to their own homes. Marceilla and Julius would spend the night with Grandmaman, but Albus and Elizabett would take Catherine to visit Nicholas and Perenelle in Bordeaux.

As the small family Disapparated from the Apparition Point behind the cottage, the glow of two Disillusionment Charms shimmered on opposite ends of the ridge where the family once stood. They were not together, and probably didn't recognize that each were there. One was giddy with excitement at what had been witnessed. The other worried about what would happen it this information fell into the wrong hands.

~~~***~~~

Elizabett rolled over, her eyes sleepily fluttering open. The room was still very dark meaning that the sun had not yet risen. _Good,_ she thought groggily. There was still time to enjoy the softness of the feather bed and down comforter.

Albus had been a dear last night, surprising everyone by declining Nicholas' invitation to leave the women and join him in the study. He had Transfigured a cradle for Catherine from an old crate, and after joining Elizabett in putting the baby to bed, he had remained faithfully and lovingly by her side for the entire evening, his arm uncharacteristically resting around her shoulders as they sat in the parlor chatting with their hosts. Upon retiring, he spooned behind her, snuggling close, wrapping his right arm around her waist, pulling her to fit cozily in front of him. Elizabett sighed contently as he nuzzled the nape of her neck, his beard tickling her upper shoulder. She had missed this tenderness from him, and it felt good. He had been so preoccupied lately, and she couldn't wait for him to finish his experiment. Only three more uses for dragon's blood left. He had promised to end at twelve.

Having fallen asleep rapidly, she now struggled to focus her eyes in the darkness, noticing the loss of heat. Albus' side of the bed was empty. Waiting for a few moments, she listened, thinking that maybe, he had gone to the washroom, but there was no sound.

Curious, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed, checked on Catherine, and opened the bedroom door. The corridor was dark, and she heard nothing, but there was a dim glimmer of light at the end of the hallway coming from the floor below. Easing out of the room, she padded barefoot to the small landing at the top of the stairs. Soft voices could be heard emanating from the study, and she smiled, wondering how long it had taken before they felt compelled to meet. Men were such funny creatures. As she crept down the narrow staircase, which surprisingly didn't creak in such an old house, the loud tickle of the grandfather clock in the main entranceway echoed in the near silence confirming the late hour.

The door to the study was open just a crack, and Elizabett snuck closer to peer in, viewing only a sliver of the sitting area around the fireplace. Placing her head close to the door to listen, her amused smile faded at what she heard.

"…and the glow was a brilliant white…like I'd never seen before…you could feel the energy in the air…it was remarkable," Albus was exhilarated as he paced in front of the grand fireplace. "The four of them…including Catherine," he exclaimed excitedly in a hushed tone, then he snorted lightly, "I guess I won't have to test her abilities after all. I just have to make sure that she remains connected with the Goddess. I'll have to rely on Elizabett to do that. The connection seems to be only through the women. Marceilla has an older brother who has sons. None of them show a propensity to Earth magick, at least that's what Elizabett says, but she also admits that she doesn't know them very well. But, from what I saw, and from what the grandmother said, I gather it only flows through the female line." Albus was almost giddy as he rambled to his very attentive friend. "They asked that I not reveal this information, but I had to tell you since you've been involved from the start. You've managed to keep your own secret for centuries. I trust you to keep this one."

"Absolutely," Nicholas assured nodding his snow-white head from the depths of his comfortable, winged chair. "I could not jeopardize such a valuable commodity."

Commodity? Elizabett recoiled at the comment. Is that what she and Catherine were?

A commodity? And, what did Albus mean about Nicholas being "involved" from the start? And, for centuries? How old was Nicholas?

There was a pause, and Albus turned to face his friend, his back to the fireplace.

"Elizabett and Catherine are incredible," Albus breathed reverently. "I get so involved in other things – my research, work, the Ministry…"

"Your past," Nicholas added quietly.

"My past," Albus sighed in defeat as he took a step and sunk unseen into the matching seat. "My past," he repeated and then paused. "Elizabett is an incredible woman. A friend and confidant. So many times she draws me back to what is truly important in life. The simple things like family." He sighed again.

"Things that you had lost and thought would never have again," the old man observed. "How much does she know about your past?" he asked.

"Not much," Albus admitted. "Of course, I've told her some, and she has sensed bits as well, but I would like to leave my past exactly where it is."

"You know that that will be impossible if you remain on this course," Nicholas warned fatherly. Albus nodded. "And history has a way of coming back to bite you if it is not addressed."

"Which is why it's vital that Elizabett's and Catherine's abilities are kept secret, and Catherine's must be cultivated with care. Elizabett once said that the skills get stronger with each generation, but I've noticed that Marceilla doesn't have some of the abilities that Elizabett and her grandmother share. I suppose it's possible to skip a generation, but I want to give Catherine every opportunity to develop her potential. If things don't go as planned, their skills will be essential in the fight. Though, I hope it never comes to that."

"Something to consider and something keep an eye on. I, too, hope it doesn't come to that. They are far too valuable," Nicholas thoughtfully ran his fingers through his long, white beard.

There was silence for a moment, and Elizabett leaned her head against the doorframe, processing the information.

"Grindelwald's reach is far, Albus," Nicholas finally spoke. "And you can be certain he knows that you are married…and have a child. If he discovers the child is gifted… enchantments may not be enough. Vigilance will be a way of life until this threat is gone."

There was silence again and finally a rustle of movement as the men rose.

"I would give my life to protect them," Albus' voice was grave.

"As noble as it sounds, death is not an option. In death, you protect no one. You must stay alive. Teach the child well in the art of self-preservation. Maximize her skills so that future generations will not lose such an ancient gift, and make certain that Elizabett understands the necessity of it. Get her to exercise hers abilities as well. You never know what may come in handy."

As the voices came closer to the door, Elizabett backed toward the stairs and quickly made her way to their room.

Protect us? What secret does Albus have? How was he involved with Grindelwald? Did it have something to do with his work at the Ministry or the past that Nicholas was talking about? Self-preservation? Maximize our skills? Was he really that afraid of the war?

Elizabett's mind was reeling as she slipped quietly back into bed. A few moments later, she heard the door open and close, and felt Albus slip into bed behind her. Shifting close, he wrapped his arm around her waist to snuggle lovingly into the curve of her body and fell asleep. Elizabett lay awake for the rest of the night, thinking of what she had heard.


	35. 35 The Summer of Discontent

**35 – The Summer of Discontent**

The summer sun shone brilliantly through the long classroom windows making the dust particles in the air shimmer like tiny snowflakes in the beams.

Elizabett's sixth-year Hufflepuff and Gryffindors were anxiously waiting for the bell to chime to end the last class on the last day before exams. OWLs would begin next week, but most students were already looking forward to going home for the holiday.

Elizabett allowed the low chatter to filter through the chamber, and watched as a group of students quietly debated in the middle of the room. Finally, a young redhead raised her hand with a worried expression.

"Professor Castlewood?" she nervously asked. "We were listening to the wireless last night in our Common Room, and the reporter said that Germany is threatening to bomb London, like they did in Paris. Their Minister…umm, I think his name is Churchill, is warning Muggles to be prepared for war. Do you really think the war on the continent will cross the channel? The reporter said that our Ministry is urging all wizards to help protect the Muggles as best as we can."

The class turned from the young Hufflepuff as Elizabett answered. "I heard the same thing. It's sad, isn't it? So many lives are being lost; so many people are affected by this war. Not just soldiers, but civilians: women and children, young and old. Remember last year, when some of you couldn't figure how a Muggle war would affect you, some thought it never would, and now look. How many of you have Muggle relatives?"

Several students raised their hands.

"My dad's a Muggle," a Gryffindor boy with jet-black hair and freckles across his nose piped up sadly. "He's afraid for the rest of his family, and he and Mum are thinking of moving everyone in with us. Our house isn't big, but Mum's really good with enlargement charms. I'm sure we could make everyone fit."

"My family is Muggle, and they live right in London, but my dad doesn't have a choice but to stay there. He'd lose his job if he moved. He's asked Simeon's family," he pointed to his best friend, "if I could stay with them this summer. We're going to have so much fun," he grinned hopefully.

"Is it true that kids from London are going to be sent to the country? Do you think they're going to find out about us? What will happen if they do?" Another Hufflepuff asked with concern.

"I want all of you to think for a moment," Elizabett began attentively. "Does it matter whether you're Wizard or Muggle when fear is involved? The fear a mother has for her child when it's in danger. The fear a father has for his family when they're threatened. I'm sure many of your own families have felt a similar fear with Grindelwald's growing force." Elizabett knew she had made her point as many of the students nodded their heads. "For centuries, Wizard families have lived along side of Muggles and have learned the hard way how to stay quiet and inconspicuous. We have developed a variety of spells to hide from them. So, my guess is, if anyone gets caught, so to speak, it would be by their own design."

There was a mumble as the students talked amongst themselves, and as the bell sounded, the class was dismissed. Elizabett slowly returned to her desk pondering the questions asked by her students. They were good ones, ones filled with true concern. They were finally taking notice that there were more similarities than differences between Wizards and Muggles.

Clearing her desk, the Muggles Studies teacher thought of all the events that had transpired since the beginning of June. The Germans had bombed and finally marched on Paris. Some of her favorite haunts had been seriously damaged, even the Bois de Vincennes, east of the city had suffered, although rumors were that some who resisted the Germans sought refuge in those same woods. Norway had surrendered to the Nazis, and Italy had declared war on both France and Britain. Now, Germany was threatening to bring the war across the channel. Gellert must be thoroughly delighted with his success. He had told Elizabett right from the start that the dissention would spread, and the Muggles would eliminate each other. He had been right.

Elizabett took a look around the high-ceilinged classroom and sighed. Albus had been insistent that they stay close to the castle this summer, venturing only to Hogsmeade for supplies. Diagon Alley was out of the question for they would have to travel through part of London to get there, and he was unwilling to take the chance with his family. A trip to Castlewood Manor was planned, much to Elizabett's delight, as it was away from London in the Lake District of Northwestern England. But, other than that, Albus maintained that they travel no further.

~~~***~~~

The stone floor of the owlery was littered with owl droppings, molted feathers, and regurgitated remains of various rodents. The immense tower was half full, and with twilight approaching, most of the remaining birds were preparing for their evening hunt. However, one particular speckled barn owl sat on a low perch against the far wall preening himself after a very arduous day, the skeletal remains of a rather large field mouse on the floor beneath the roost. He had had three messages to deliver: his last, here at Hogwarts. The route was easy and well known: north side of the castle, third floor from the ground, seventh window from the left. The owl puffed his chest with pride. The recipient was kind and had given him a piece of fruit.

As the last of the owls flew out the glassless windows, the tired barn owl ruffled his feathers and tucked his head under his wing. He'd head back to the Ministry after a good nap.

~~~***~~~

Chairs had been magically overturned on top of the desks, and all books and supplies were neatly tucked onto shelves. Class had ended about an hour ago, yet Albus sat at the heavy, wooden table that served as his desk, staring at the parchment in his hand. It had arrived about twenty minutes ago, and as he read, he saw his tranquil summer with his family slipping away.

The Wizengamot often sought his levelheaded advice, and had repeatedly offered him a position of honor on the council. He had declined more times than he could count, but was beginning to reconsider his decision. Recently, the Ministry had begun to investigate and try those suspected of _"conspiracy to create harm and mischief by participating in the Muggle war"_. Albus sighed despairingly. He knew his old friend was involved in this. Gellert had made it no secret, and the evidence was clear: the ideologies that he knew the man held, the plans that he and Gellert had discussed as young men, the methods in which he was playing his power. Albus recognized the plans, and his stomach churned. He had helped create many of them. They were all part of the grand scheme to dominate Muggles "for the greater good of Wizardkind". Albus leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, his jaw tightening at the memory. _History does have a way of coming back to you,_ he thought sardonically. The letter in his hand was evidence of that. He was being asking to join a group whose summer function was to investigate wizards accused to being involved with Grindelwald – war criminals, they were called. Albus felt beads of perspiration begin to form on his forehead. By the description written in the letter, many of Elizabett's old circle would be under investigation, and his own past actions could be classified as collusion. He placed the parchment lightly on the desk and rested his face in his hands. If only he could simply disappear.

~~~***~~~

"Oh, for pity sake, will you stop moaning," Bathilda hushed the rotund Potions Master. "It's his business whether he tells you what he's doing in there. The Headmaster has given Albus permission to use the lab even if it is in your department."

"But, it's not right," Horace huffed indignantly as he sank further into the overstuffed armchair in the staff lounge, folding his hands across his expanding stomach. "He's worked down there for years, and at one point, he allowed me in, but ever since he's taken up with _her_," he sulked, "he doesn't let me in at all."

"I thought you'd made your peace with their relationship. After all, it is more… traditional," Bathilda carefully chose her words.

Horace tipped his eyes to her disdainfully. "The curiosity is killing me," he groaned, "and when I do get in after he's been there, I can't access any of the cupboards that he…" Horace stopped himself as the confession of snooping almost rolled from his tongue.

The History of Magic professor caught the slip anyway and gave him a wary look. "I think you should mind your own business. If there was anything you needed to know, I'm certain you would have been told."

The large clock on the wall ticked loudly in the brooding silence. Horace sullenly stared into space while Bathilda took up her book to read again.

He hadn't been pleased to learn that Albus and Elizabett would be staying at Hogwarts for the summer. As charming as Albus may find the girl, Horace often found himself questioning their relationship, especially when he found his former companion working long hours in the lab. And now, he was choosing to be isolated with her for two months when there were so many other things to be done. What was he thinking? And then, there was the issue of Elizabett renewing her friendship with her old beau, Thomas. Albus didn't seem to mind. Why just last Saturday, they had entered the private living quarters to find the handsome, younger man sprawled on his stomach on the terrace playing with Catherine while Elizabett watched from her perch on the garden wall. Thomas had become a frequent guest these last months, and Albus didn't even blink.

Horace "hmphed" and hoisted himself from the comfortable chair. Who was he to question? He thought bitterly. As Bathilda said, it wasn't any of his business.Albus had made his choice …_ah, but there was always hope, _he sighed to himself_._

Heading for the door of the staff lounge, Horace's stomach grumbled loudly. Dinner would begin soon, and there was always a plethora of delectable delights on the last day of class, and he didn't want to miss out.

~~~***~~~

"Back to the orphanage this summer?" Claudius Crabbe asked as he flopped onto the bench beside the black-haired, second-year at the end of the Slytherin table. "Rotten luck. What'll you do with yourself?"

Tom turned his piercing, black eyes to the chubby, older boy. He hated being questioned, and hated, even more, the thought of returning to that horrendous, red-bricked Victorian jail that served as the only home he'd ever known. The only benefit was that everyone there was afraid of him and kept their distance. This gave him time to think and study. He clearly understood that if he used magic outside of the school he could be expelled, and he had no intention of that happening. He needed Hogwarts. It was the only place where he felt he truly belonged.

"I overheard Ol' Sluggy talking about who he'd ask to join the club next year," Crabbe continued. "I hope I get picked," the third-year dreamed as he shoveled a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. "It's a great place to share ideas with people who think the same way as you." He paused for a moment to take a sip of pumpkin juice. "You're lucky you don't have to take Muggle Studies for another couple of years. I get it next year. I don't know why it's compulsory for fourth to sixth-years, but at least, it's an option for the last year. Castlewood's okay. Kind of quiet, but I've heard that you can't underestimate her. She likes to stir things up in class. McNair said it's because she likes to annoy Professor Babbling. You know, she's from an old family…really old," he chattered on. "Her mum's a Lestrange from France. Dad says they're all in league with Grindelwald, but rumor has it that she "sold out" when she created the course. My dad doesn't believe it. He thinks she did it so that everyone will understand Muggles better, so that we'd know what their weaknesses are. He says that her family has suffered too much at the hand of the Muggles for her to ever be in favor of them. I think…"

The boy rattled on endlessly as Tom's mind drifted. He had heard about Professor Castlewood's interesting background and had spent the last part of the year doing a little research into her family history. It was a miracle any of them had survived. For centuries, they had been victims of witch-hunts both on the continent and in Britain. The Lestrange family had even been referred to in _Malleus Maleficarum_, the ultimate manuscript on how to identify and destroy witches, written in 1487 by Heinrich Kramer and Jacob Sprenger. It was fascinating reading, and it was quite amazing how the Lestrange family seemed to have a knack for getting out of ridiculously difficulty situations. He was impressed. He had also discovered that Professor Castlewood's father had been a Slytherin, a fact that was never hidden but was still curious. But, he unconsciously frowned; she was married to Professor Dumbledore, the half-blood Head of Gryffindor, and a man he didn't like or trust. He felt transparent in his presence, and he didn't like that feeling.

~~~***~~~

Summer passed more slowly than the thoughts of a mountain troll. Albus spent much of the time away with his "special task", and was often gone for days. His visits home were irregular and infrequent, and when he was there, he said nothing of his work when asked. When he was gone, Elizabett kept company with Madam Prince and her daughter, Eileen, as Mr. Prince, who worked at the Ministry, was also frequently in London. But, by the end on July, even they left the security of Hogwarts to visit family. Elizabett was, then, left alone in the castle with no one to speak to but house elves, portraits, and ghosts. If it weren't for Thomas' regular Saturday visits, she thought she would have gone mad.

"What? He was home for a full twenty-four hours? And, he knows that you're here alone? I can't believe he just left you by yourself again!" Thomas paced the main room, his emerald eyes flashing with an ancient Irish temper. "He promised to take you to your parents' weeks ago. What's his excuse this time?" His cheeks were burning with anger.

"I'm not sure. He was evasive. He keeps saying that I'm safer at Hogwarts. The Floo Network isn't even connected here, and the Protective Shields are at their strongest because of the war. I feel so trapped," Elizabett sank helplessly onto the sofa.

"Well, I've had enough of this," Thomas' jaw tightened with resolve. "Pack your bags. If your husband won't take you home, then I will," he finally took charge. "We'll take the Floo from the Hogs Head Inn. I don't know what his problem is," he huffed. "Safe? What does he expect will happen? You're going home, for Merlin's sake."

Elizabett's helpless mood began to change, and she quickly went into the bedroom to gathered her and Catherine's belongings, folding them neatly, and packing them into a large carpetbag. Reducing the luggage into handbag size, she returned to the living room to find Thomas putting a small, rosy cardigan over Catherine's summer dress. Tying a matching bonnet onto her head, he lifted her into his arms.

"You're a natural," Elizabett beamed feeling a swell in her heart that she hadn't expected. Catching herself, she continued, "I'm ready to go. Petite," she called as an old house elf dressed in a pale pink apron appeared from thin air. "We're going to Castlewood Manor. I want you to go ahead to tell my parents we're coming by Floo."

Petite bobbed her head, snapped her fingers, and disappeared as quickly as she arrived.

Elizabett wrote a note to Albus and charmed it to reveal its message orally when he came home. She left the note on the dining room table, smiled at her friend, and the three headed for the door without a glance back.

~~~**~~~

Albus marched up the crushed stone path to the front door of Castlewood Manor, his charcoal gray work robe flapping lightly over the gravel. His distress at finding his family gone when he returned to Hogwarts was still brewing at the surface. Did she not realize just how dangerous these times were? What was she thinking traveling by Floo by herself? Where had she Flooed from, and how did she get the connection? Merlin, if anyone at the Ministry who was under investigation by him took notice…? He didn't want to finish that thought. Knocking on the painted, black door, he waited for a second, his mind suddenly distracted by the simple, peaceful beauty of the colorful window boxes and flowering bushes that led to the front entrance. Petite opened the door and smiled brightly at her second Master. Leading him into the foyer, she bowed away as Julius entered from the sitting room. He was not smiling, and his stern frown made Albus uncomfortable.

"It took you long enough," he began flatly. "She's been here nearly a week."

"I was out of the country," Albus defended weakly. "This project at the Ministry is certainly more involved than I was led to believe."

"I've heard about your "team"," Julius replied with a scowl. "I know our circle has a dark history, and many have made their beliefs clear. You can't blame many of them for their strong feelings toward Muggles, not after what their families have lived through."

Albus drew to his full height with conviction. "You can't blame the present population for the actions of their ancestors. The Wizard world in not completely blameless for the Muggles' fear of us, and they killed as many of their our through their ignorance. That doesn't give us the right to join the fray and manipulate the situation. You and I have both known that Grindelwald has had a hand in this from the start. That doesn't give the rest of us the right to take advantage of it."

Julius softened slightly. Albus had a point. Grindelwald's involvement in the Muggle war had been suspected all along, and Julius knew that many from his circle had joined the ranks. He respected Albus' position but would not speak against those in his faction.

"Come," he extended his hand to the younger man, changing the subject. "Elizabett is in the solarium with Catherine and Marceilla."

The Castlewood patriarch led the way down the narrow hall and through the kitchen to the glassed-in room at the back of the house. Elizabett held Catherine on her hip as the women talked softly with their backs to the door. Laughing, Elizabett leaned forward and let Catherine reach out to the tiny clipping of ivy that struggled to grow in a small terra cotta pot. The child's chubby little fingers stretched gently toward the pointed leaves, and she let out an "oooo" as the wilted foliage perked up. Pulling her hand back, she grinned at her mother, then reached for the plant again, this time with gusto. Grabbing the bright green leaves with the tips of her fingers, Catherine squealing with delight as the plant doubled, then tripled, in size. Marceilla clapped her hands in pride at her granddaughter.

"Best to watch _that_ skill," Marceilla laughed. "I remember when you were about three, you liked the ivy on the façade of the house, and before we knew it, your father had to use _Diffindo_ to cut the vines from the windows and doors. The manor was completely covered," she exclaimed.

Elizabett chuckled.

"It took two weeks to slowly cut the vines back so that you wouldn't notice they were gone," Julius smiled from the doorway. "Look who just arrived," he drew Albus into the room.

Both women stiffened slightly at the sight, their discomfort was obvious.

"It's good to have you visit, Albus," Marceilla gathered herself and graciously stepped forward to kiss her son-in-law on the cheek. "Will you be staying long?"

"A few days, if that will be alright with you," Albus awkwardly replied.

Marceilla looked over her shoulder at her daughter. "I think that may depend on your wife," she calmly stated.

Reaching for her husband's arm, Marceilla gently pulled the protective father from the room and shut the door, casting a Silencing Spell for privacy.

"What did you do that for?" Julius complained. "I wanted to hear her tell him off."

~~~***~~~

"You have no idea what it was like to arrive home and find you gone," Albus took a concerned step toward his wife.

"You have no idea what it was like to have no one to talk with for days on end. I was alone, Albus. You knew that. There was no one left in the castle. Professor Kettleburn and Og went into the forest weeks ago. Madam Prince and her family left to visit relatives. You were in and out without a word of when I'd see you again or what you were doing. I tried to do as you asked and stay at the castle, but you kept breaking your promise of bringing us here. You kept putting us off. I'd had enough," Elizabett anger resurfaced with the explanation. There was silence for a moment as Albus processed the information. "How long are you going to stay this time?" Elizabett asked crossly.

"As long as I can," Albus humbly replied.

Catherine gazed back and forth between her parents from her position on Elizabett's hip, then gently reached to her mother's cheek and tenderly stroked it. Then, she leaned away from Elizabett and reached her chubby arms toward her father, a silent request to be taken. Albus' eyes crinkled at the corners, and a broad smile grew across his face. Lifting the precious child into his arms, he held her close to his chest and could feel the love radiate from her. Looking down into bright blue eyes, he noticed a predominant dark ring beginning to form around the iris, just like Elizabett's eyes. Albus felt his heart swell. What had he been missing? Holding Catherine in his left arm, he reached his right hand to his wife inviting her into a hug. Elizabett took a hesitant step forward, and then with two quicker steps, she was in her husband's arms being held for dear life.

"We need to talk," he whispered to the top of her head.

~~~***~~~

With Catherine in the adoring hands of her grandparents, Albus and Elizabett took a well-needed walk across the jade meadow toward the pond. Holding her hand tightly in his, Albus was silent until they reached the edge of the water. Transfiguring a leaf into green, plaid blanket, he spread it on the grassy shore and invited Elizabett to sit. Taking the spot beside her, he stared across the water gathering his thoughts. Elizabett waited patiently.

"I can't tell you everything…for your own safety…but I can tell you this," he began. "The Ministry has been searching for those who are in allegiance with Grindelwald and are prosecuting them for collusion in the Muggle war. Many names that you know well have been under investigation. In some cases, the evidence is irrefutable; other cases are questionable. I have spent the better part of this summer finding evidence to protect your family." Elizabett's shock and surprise was obvious, and Albus held his hand up to let him finish as her mouth began to open. "Your father is a business man with many connections overseas, but is also a consultant with the Ministry and has aided them in the past with information to curb some of the damage done by rogue wizards. It wasn't difficult to show his innocence. Your mother's family, however, was another story. Although the British Ministry of Magic does not have authority overseas, your mother is here."

"But how could the Ministry suspect my mother?" Elizabett was in shock.

"They don't," Albus responded to his wife's puzzled expression. "They suspect Axius and his family, along with a few other of your relatives. The suspicion of your mother was purely by association."

"Then, I should be under investigation as well," Elizabett exclaimed in surprise.

Albus said nothing but renewed his stare across the pond.

"You've got to be kidding?" Elizabett exclaimed. "I'm under investigation for collusion?"

"Not any more," Albus' lips began to twitch upward. "I convinced them that the idea was absurd. You were the one who proposed the Muggle Studies course to broaden our view of Muggles. You have done nothing suspect to warrant further investigation. They did it because of your connection with Axius. I explained that you and Axius have a similar, protective bond with your grandmother who lives in France, and that you have been traveling back and forth to ensure her safety, that family was very important to you. I mentioned that I myself recently participated in adding Protective Charms to your grandmother's home." Elizabett could feel her heart race and her temperature rise. "Are you alright?" Albus brushed a strand of chestnut hair away from Elizabett's cheek.

"That's why you've been away so much? You've been protecting us?" Elizabett could feel tears well in her eyes.

Albus nodded slowly. "I wanted to bring you here sooner, but felt it would be prudent to wait until everyone was cleared first. There's still work to do."

"You're investigating the circle, aren't you? The Rosiers, and Malfoys?" Elizabett questioned somberly.

"And, the Blacks and Cresswells," Albus added. "We have strong evidence against the Rosiers. They've made no secret of their allegiance. Many have already disappeared to Europe. Aryanna Malfoy married into a family with strong ties to Grindelwald, but her father, Abraxas, is a slippery one, very careful of what he does and says. The Ministry can't directly connect him with anything, although we're certain that he's funding the campaign somehow. As for the Black, the investigation is still pending. This is the reason why I wanted you to stay at Hogwarts. It's that safest place for you and Catherine to be. If anyone were to try to threaten me, they may try to go after you and the baby. I couldn't let that happen. That's also why I didn't mind if Thomas stopped by. Thomas' connections as Goblin Liason with the Ministry often brought him overseas, so I checked them out first. The Cresswells were cleared months ago. I know he's an old friend who has your best interest at heart, and I knew that you would need him around when things got difficult." There was a pause before he continued. "I'm sorry I could tell you sooner, and I'm sorry that you spent so much time alone. It must have been dreadful." He reached his arm around her shoulders and drew her into a loving embrace.

"I'm glad you told me. It doesn't erase the past, but it does make it more bearable. I was very angry with you," Elizabett tipped her head back and grinned at her husband who grinned back.

Deciding to continue their walk and talk, the couple strolled around the perimeter of the pond, through the grove of trees, and along the hedgerow that grew around the boundary of the magically protected grounds. A horse-drawn cart rattled by on the packed-dirt road carrying children that Elizabett recognized as a Muggle family from in the village. Two serious- looking children that Elizabett didn't know joined them. She made Albus stop and watch as the cart rolled by. _Children from the city_, she thought. They looked so sad. She couldn't imagine what they must be going through.

Silently wandering back to the manor, each lost in their own thoughts, Elizabett and Albus found a dozing Catherine in the sitting room in the loving company of her grandparents.

Julius sat in his favorite fan-backed armchair reading the _Daily Prophet_ while Marceilla flipped through a copy of _Witch Weekly. _

Glancing up from his newspaper, Julius asked the couple. "All's settled?"

Elizabett smiled at her father and gave Albus' hand a squeeze. "For now," she grinned.


	36. 36 The Battle of Britain

**36 – The Battle of Britain**

Albus stayed at Castlewood Manor for a full week enjoying the peaceful solitude of the isolated grounds. No demands were made upon him, and the stresses of the last few months slipped away, if only for a little while. The gardens were in full bloom, and the sun shone brilliant and warm. He took walks with his family, and they picnicked by the pond almost daily. He began to laugh again, a sound that hadn't been heard since before the bombing of Paris in June, and his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Elizabett and Catherine filled his heart.

His investigations had led to some interesting revelations about the family that he had married into, but nothing emerged that could be construed as conspiracy. Julius had numerous business associates overseas whose activities were linked with Gellert, however, no connection could be found that led back to his father-in-law. As a matter of fact, it was brought forward that Julius' assistance in the past, in helping curb the aggression in Europe, held him in positive favor with the Ministry. That, and it appeared that he had severed many of his ties that were highly suspect in the investigation.

Marceilla's family, unfortunately, held been another story. Elizabett's cousin, Axius, his wife, eldest son, and daughter-in-law, were openly supportive of Grindelwald. Their aggression toward Muggles was deep-seated, and although there didn't seem to be any link to Grindelwald directly, Albus was certain that there was. He had felt it at Grandmaman Lestrange's in April. That side of the family refused to make eye contact with anyone, and Albus suspected it was fear of _Legilimens_ that caused the aversion. Marceilla herself was cleared of any association that would be suspicious; simply by the fact that she rarely went overseas to visit her family and lived quietly at the manor.

Grandmaman Lestrange, Albus discovered, held no allegiance to anyone but her family. She lived by a simple code: "All energies issued out will return three-fold", meaning that positive or negative, however, she behaved, would come back to her times three. It would be in her best interest to be kind.

It was Elizabett's adventures as a young woman that intrigued him, though. Raised and educated in near isolation until attending Hogwarts, she became quietly curious about Muggles. He smiled remembering her from school. He had begun teaching there in her graduating year, and she would often corner him in his classroom to ask questions about his knowledge of Muggles. He remembered those days. He was intrigued by her then, but she was a child, a student. He gave it no further thought.

Her curiosity had led her to venture into the Muggle world for several years, and he found it interesting that a woman with such a violent family history was so engrossed in learning about those who had caused so much harm. Through his research, he had found her old Floo and Portkey requests in the Ministry archives, travel routes filed with the European Magical Council, and Muggle documentation for lodging rentals. She had traveled extensively for years. Then, for the year prior to her return, she simply vanished from the face of the Earth. There were no records of any kind. It was as if she no longer existed. _Lucky for her_, he supposed. Several of the towns where she had planned to go had been stricken with horrible illnesses and tragedies. Many had died, and if he hadn't known better, he would have considered her disappearance as fact that she too had perished. Someone somewhere had to know something, but he found nothing. According to his contacts, she had simply reappeared one day, determination set in her mind that the Wizard world lacked information, and she was willing to provide it. She returned to England and began to write the proposal for the course she now taught.

Albus leaned his back against an old cedar, thinking. Occasionally, in the beginning of their relationship, before they had confessed their feelings for each other, he had silently cast _Occlumens _out of a natural mistrust. He smiled at the memory of what had been reflected in her mind: pure, kind thought, Castlewood Manor, the gardens, her classroom, her chambers, even the image of him when he didn't know that she was watching. He was content in that fact that he trusted her. She had never lied to him. He would have known if she had. She was one of the few that he had ever let into his heart, and that was not a place where he let many journey. He had been sorely hurt the last time it had happened. He frowned. He was young, and he and Gellert had fought; a battle that left his sister dead, and his friend selfishly fleeing to save himself. It took a very long time to overcome that hurt and betrayal, and Albus had vowed to never let anyone get close again. Horace had been a fine companion for a time, and as irritating as the man could be, love was certainly never an issue. But, Elizabett was something that he never expected. Her quiet, open friendship was refreshing. She made no demands and accepted whatever he had to offer. She took him for the way he was, simply, a man. He couldn't image life without her.

Albus closed his eyes and allowed the peaceful sound of the light breeze over the water lull him into a relaxed state. His mind drifting into blissful nothingness, he jumped as a hand gently touched his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Elizabett smiled sweetly at her startled husband. Gathering her skirt around her legs, she sat on the grass beside him. "I thought you would have heard me coming. I can't believe I snuck up on you. What were you thinking about?" Her smile was radiant.

He gazed at her lovingly with a look of serenity on his face. "You," he breathed lightly tipping his head in her direction.

"Oh, good," she grinned impishly as her hand slid over his thigh.

He lightly placed his hand over hers to stop the motion. "Are you going to ruin my tranquil state of mind?" his lips twitched upward in a tired motion.

"It could either be construed as ruining it or taking it to the next level," she playfully wagged her brows.

"And, where is our daughter?" Albus' grin grew through his auburn beard.

"Napping," Elizabett's lips twisted roguishly as she leaned toward him.

"And, your parents?" Albus moved closer to brush his lips tenderly across hers.

"Father is in his study, and mother is in the solarium," Elizabett answered to his feather-light touch.

"Good," Albus groaned as he felt himself swell. The discomfort that he suddenly felt in his lap was becoming overwhelming.

Leaning to deepen the kiss, he pressed Elizabett back into the grassy bank, his hand fumbling at the front buttons of her robe. Succeeding in releasing the fastenings, his hand slipped beneath the material to cup a perfect handful of warm flesh. Kneading the mound until the woman beside him began to moan, he nibbled a path from her lips to her collarbone, to nuzzle a hot cleavage, and finally to run his tongue across a soft nipple. Sliding his hand under the skirt of her robe and up the warm, inside skin of her thigh, they both managed to raise each other's robes enough to have flesh meet flesh. Albus raised his bared knee over her leg and came to nestle between her thighs, feeling an almost desperate need to push forward. Elizabett sensed his urgency and moved the last piece of fabric aside, reaching her hand down to guide him in. Oh, sweet Merlin. Tender kisses accompanied the slow motion, but the kisses came to a halt, as the glide became a rock, which grew into unrelenting thrusts as temperatures rose. Elizabett's cheeks flushed a bright crimson as she felt her internal walls begin to contract, and Albus' rhythm never faltered as he groaned with unbridled longing. Stretching straight onto his arms, his back arched, and he gritted his teeth to control the cry that threatened to surface as he released into her. Elizabett buried her face into his chest as her ankles wrapped around his backside drawing him tightly in. With a final thrust, they paused, hearts racing, bodies in perfect unison, her contractions clamping seductively around him. Lowering onto her and burying his face in the crook of her neck, Albus rested for a moment not wanting to let go. Elizabett uncurled her ankles and brought her feet back to the ground cradling her husband between her knees and stroking his spine.

"You have no idea how much I needed that," he whispered hoarsely into her ear.

"Probably as much as I did," she whispered back.

~~~***~~~

Albus left the following morning on another assignment from the Ministry but promised to return in two weeks for the start of school. German bombs continued to ravage London, and the targets for their destruction began to spread to other cities: Bath, Bristol, and Westminster being a few, even Glasgow, in Scotland, had been hit. London, however, lay in rubble, for the Luffwaffe could not distinguish between citizens' homes and ancient historical landmarks. They didn't care. Annihilation was the key. Many Wizards struggled to balance their powers between protecting their own families and those of their Muggle neighbors, but it was becoming a losing battle.

Elizabett felt guilty and helpless in the safety of her childhood home and watched as more and more Muggle children were adopted into the area, their lives being torn apart by the senseless violence. But, she could't risk going to see Gellert now, not after learning that Albus had protected her family in the investigation. She couldn't jeopardize his efforts.

~~~***~~~

September began in a flurry as King's Cross continued to be used to usher youngster and families away from the dangers in London. Students fought the crowds and brought heart-wrenching stories of mothers bidding her children "good-bye", never knowing if they would ever see them again. They told of air raids sirens sounding almost nightly, and of shops and homes being destroyed. Even the Leaky Cauldron hadn't escaped damages. One boy relayed that a bomb had landed so close that the portal to Diagon Alley had been cracked, and the Wizard shopping district had shook from the impact. Luckily, no further damage had been done, but it was close, too close.

Gathering in the staffroom after the first meeting of the year, Bathilda also told of Muggle children who had been shipped to relatives in Godric's Hollow, and how sad they all seemed. "Muggle or not, no child should live through such horrors," she had exclaimed.

Professor Flaurance and Professor Kettleburn agreed, and Horace had mentioned the increase of families in his area as well, complaining that he had to enhance his Muggle Repelling Charm, because they kept wandering past his home, curiously gawking at his ramshackle property as if it were a potential residence.

Classes began as usual, and routine slowly fell into place. The discussions in the senior classes never drifted far from the war, regardless of how hard Elizabett tried to steer it in another direction. Most were sincerely concerned, and they needed to voice those concerns to feel secure. So, Elizabett relented and devoted the first ten minutes of each class to an open discussion.

"You should have seen all of us. Dad was so proud of Mum. There were twenty of us living at our house at one point. It's really good to be back at school. A few less under Mum's feet. She did a really good job. We had to double up, but Dad's family is safe, and that's what matters. They've got no home to go back to. The whole area was destroyed. Muggles can be so stupid," a seventh-year Gryffindor settled into his seat in the Muggle studies class.

"My family moved in with my Gran in York. The Germans aren't bombing there. It was real quiet," another offered.

"I went to Diagon Alley in July, and we had to take the Floo. While we were in transit, a bomb hit, and my little sister ended up in Knockturn Alley. Dad went nuts trying to find her, and Mum wouldn't let us go back before school started."

The stories were endless, and they tugged at Elizabett's heart, but it was the callous reaction of some of the Slytherins that made her angry. Tom Riddle had spent his summer back in the orphanage, which rapidly filled with children who had lost their families and had no place else to go. From what Elizabett overheard, they were new fodder for Tom's malicious behaviour, and his Housemates, who fostered the same sentiment, encouraged him. It was no wonder that his attitude became even more smug when Horace openly invited him to join his little group one evening. He would have more people to gather ideas from.

Albus was working desperately to balance his duties at school with those at the Ministry, but it was one night at the end of September when he came home in a frantic state that Elizabett's mind made a clear decision. He and some others where on their way to the Leaky Cauldron when the air raid siren sounded, but instead of seeking coverage, the Wizards gallantly positioned themselves to protect as many Muggles as they could who ran for cover. However, it was not completely successful. The blast shook their shields and many were injured. Once the shrapnel stopped flying, the Wizards ran toward the wounded, but one shell was on a timer and didn't explode until a minute later. Both Wizards and Muggles died in the blast, and Albus had been been left in shock.

Elizabett steeled her resolve. Something had to be done.

~~~***~~~

It was late, and the night was dark. Gellert uncharacteristically met Elizabett at the front door of his decrepit home, a glass of brandy in one hand, and a broad smile on his face.

"To what do I owe this pleasure," he bowed slightly to the young woman. "You came voluntarily. You must want something. Am I right?" He grinned.

"Astute as always, Gellert," Elizabett tipped her head politely as she brushed passed him and entered the house. Once in the foyer, she turned to face him and waited for him to close the door to lead them into the study.

"A drink?" he asked cordially, offering her her customary chair.

"No, thank you," she courteously declined. Wiping her hands nervously across the skirt of her rose-coloured robe, she settled into her seat. This was no time to show her apprehension. Stilling her hands by folding them neatly on her lap, she bravely began. "I've come about the situation in Britain."

Gellert grinned. "Incredible, isn't it?" He breathed in awe, his delight shone in his eyes. "Before you know it, the Muggles will have wiped themselves from existence, and my people are already poised to take over. They are placed in the highest positions, but will only move on my command," Gellert boasted as he casually leaned back. "But, you didn't come all this way to hear me gloat, what is it you want?" he questioned, ready to refuse any request.

Elizabett braced herself. She had chosen her words carefully and practiced for days. She hoped she wouldn't sound mechanical. "It's one thing to fight a battle with a worthy opponent who can fight back, but to strike when one's opponent is incapable of fighting? Women and children, the elderly, the sick, the crippled, are being killed, mostly in the dark hours of night. It's like striking someone when their back is turned. There's no honour in this kind of fight," Elizabett clearly pointed out.

"You take me for an honourable man?" Gellert openly laughed. "Merlin, woman, and here I thought you knew me! I don't care how the Muggles die, just as long as they do. Women bear the future generation. The children will grow and become adults, being as stupid and inferior as their parents. The old…well, they simply deserve to die for the fact that they are no longer useful contributors in life. They are the fathers and mothers of the generation today. The others? Worthless. No, my love, I don't see why you're so concerned."

Elizabett took a different approach. "Wizards are being affected, too. Don't forget the British Ministry of Magic is in London, and many Wizards live in the area. It's not just Muggles that are getting hurt. All life is important. We learn from each other. We need…"

"If the Wizards in a war zone are not smart enough to place Protective Charms on themselves and their homes, then they deserve what they get," Gellert snorted derisively. "As for the Muggles, they are insects, irritants in life, deserving of being swatted," Gellert furiously continued. "We have felt the strike of their inferior hand for centuries. It's their turn. Wizard domination will ensure a strong existence. We are the powerful. We deserve to rule." Gellert's pale face flushed a deep shade of pink as his anger rose.

"Yes, Wizards are stronger," Elizabett countered trying to keep the situation from exploding in her face. "But, we can't blame this generation of Muggles or even the fathers of this generation for events from centuries ago. Gellert, you once told me that this was a game of strategy, that you enjoyed watching the players create and carry out their tactical plans. What are you watching now? The Battle of Britain has no plan beyond destruction. There is no tactical diversity, no complicated strategy. It's like watching someone throw a rock on an anthill. Any half-wit can do that. Whatever happened to your chess game?"

The blond in the opposite chair paused, his eyes narrowing in thought as he watched the young woman state her case. She was right. As delighted as he was by the deaths of so many Muggles, the fun had gone from the planning of it.

"What is it you want of me?" he finally asked.

"Use your head. Get involved again. Don't just sit on the sidelines. You yourself have said how incompetant Muggles are. You were once in control, but you've left them to make all of the decisions? Yes, they're killing each other off, but you are no longer in the position of power," Elizabett goaded. Pausing to let her comments sink in, she shifted in her seat. "I can't stay any longer, but please think about what I said."

Rising to leave, Gellert followed suit. He escorted her to the door, but before he opened it, he abruptly turned to face her, catching her off guard. She could feel his attempt at _Legilimens_ and was thankful for her proficiency at _Occlumens_. He only saw what she wanted him to see.

"Good night," were the only curt words he spoke as he opened the door to let her out.

Tipping her head at the dismissal, Elizabett stepped from the dingy doorway and into the night. As she descended the steps, her mind reeled at what she had done. Would he take the bait? Would he dare to get involved again? Had she goaded him enough to get him to return to his original plan? This was what the Ministry needed, concrete evidence of Grindelwald's involvement in the Muggle war. She only hoped that he would realize that no good would come from killing Wizards as well, but she had a horrible feeling that he didn't care who he hurt anymore as long as he was entertained.

Stepping onto the curb on the opposite side of the street, Elizabett headed toward the alley on the right. Her visit hadn't been long, and she hoped that her absence from Hogwarts had gone unnoticed. Turning the corner into the dark passageway, she was startled by a familiar figure.

"What in Merlin's balls are you doing here?" the furious voice hissed in a whisper.


	37. 37 Answering Questions

**37 – Answering Questions**

Elizabett blanched, her heart rising into her throat, her knees beginning to buckle.

"Answer me," the man angrily grabbed her shoulders to give her a shake.

Elizabett's hand instinctively rose and struck her assailant in the chest, pushing him backward with an unspoken spell while she regained her faculties. "I may ask the same question?" she spat.

"I was following you," he replied standing straight and rubbing the sore spot at the middle of his rib cage.

"Following me? How? Why?" Elizabett gritted her teeth in anger, the pupils of her eyes narrowing to pin-dots, showing a nearly white iris encompassed by a deep blue ring.

"I was in Hogsmeade and saw you leave. I wanted to talk to you, but you slipped away. I wondered where you were going," Thomas replied. "I could always find you when we were kids playing Hide and Seek. You leave a distinct magical trail. Funny how no one else could sense it, but I always could," he stood proudly. "But, what you just did was exhausting. You obviously didn't want to be followed, and clearly you know who lives there," he nodded sharply toward Gellert's home. "What I can't understand is why or how you could be involved with him."

Elizabett grabbed her friend's elbow and steered him deeper into the ally. "We can't talk here," she whispered fearfully. "Clear your mind. I'll Apparate us to a safe place."

Thomas guardedly pulled his elbow away, but she reached again and took a firm hold. "You have to trust me," she insisted as they hastily disappeared into the night.

The half moon shone through the clouds, and the rocky ground was slippery under their feet as Elizabett held up her long skirt, leading the way up a steep incline to the ruins of an ancient baronial castle atop a cliff overlooking a magnificent valley. Climbing over a boulder, they entered through a hole in a south battlement, silently traversing the narrow, winding stairwell to an upper level. They moved swiftly along the damp corridor, the stone façade around the window casings casting oddly-shaped shadows, allowing only a sliver of moonlight to filter in to guide their path.

Finally, Elizabett pushed an ornate, wooden door open, and Thomas found him standing in what had once been an elegant bedroom. The draperies were now nothing but shreds of cloth hanging in wispy threads from the high curtain rails of the sagging four-poster bed. A large, baroque armchair and matching table, layered with years of dust, sat in the corner by a great, stone fireplace. The colors of the rug on the floor could not be distinguished between the dirt and years of fading, and a rat could be heard scurrying from somewhere in the room.

Elizabett stepped in and raised her wand, cautiously casting privacy spells, that were probably unnecessary, to protect them. Then, turning to face her friend, she appeared ghostly white in the half shadow. They stood for a moment, staring at each other, not knowing what to say or where to begin, but it was Thomas who broke the silence with a simple word.

"Well?" he asked, his jaw tightening, making is square face fuller.

Elizabett wrung her hands and took a deep breath. "My telling you anything could jeopardize so much," she worried.

"Try," Thomas stated flatly.

"I met Gellert years ago…" she began.

"Gellert?? On a first name basis, are we?" the young man roared.

"Thomas, please," she pleaded. "Let me finish."

He folded his arms across his broad chest and stood stock-still waiting for an answer that he didn't expect or necessarily want to hear.

"Years ago, when I was traveling through Europe, Gellert approached me. I was ignorant and naïve. He treated me with kindness and respect, listened to my ideas and encouraged me in my work. He said that there were dangers in traveling alone and suggested that it would be safer for us to travel together. We did so for several months. He never behaved inappropriately with me, and gave me no reason to mistrust him. At one point, he became fearful, and asked for my assistance. I agreed. It wasn't until later when I realized what he was doing, at which point, I was stuck. He took full advantage of my naivety. He betrayed me, tricked me," she paused for a moment, biting her bottom lip in worry at Thomas' reaction. "I'm his Secret-Keeper," she stated plainly as she watched her friend draw back in shock. "Gods, if anyone finds out about our bond, he's threatened to destroy everything I have. I can't tell you everything of what's been going on, but I can say that he trusts me, and if my visit tonight worked, then hopefully the aggression against Britain will stop."

"What did you do? Give yourself to him? You'd give yourself to him, but not to me?" Thomas' face twisted in pain and anger.

"No!" Elizabett defended. "As I said, he trusts me, he confides in me and expects that the information he tells me will be secure. He doesn't think I'll tell anyone about our… situation, and I never would have, had you not found out. My bond is broken. My life is in danger, and the life that I've made at Hogwarts could be destroyed in the blink of an eye, if he so chooses." Tears were beginning to roll down her cheeks.

"I take it Albus doesn't know," Thomas began to calm, a private satisfaction rising at the thought that he was privy to something about Elizabett that her husband wasn't.

"No," Elizabett shook her head slowly, the weight of her emotions putting pressure on her temples.

"Does _anyone_ else know?" he asked, certain that someone _had_ to know. How could such a secret be kept from everyone?

She shook her head again. "Since my return to England, and especially since my joining Hogwarts, I've been working to slow Gellert's efforts, to pass along information of what he was doing without compromising my position. I've intentionally made contacts with specific people at the Ministry and used the information generated in my classes and lessons as a resource. It was working, but he stopped being so involved, and the Muggles began to take over. My goal tonight was to goad him into becoming involved again. If the European Magical Council can identify his participation with concrete information, maybe he can be stopped. But, I'm afraid that what he's begun is no longer in his control. There are others involved, others with high ambitions who have begun their own agendas. Plus, the Muggles are acting on their own accord."

Thomas turned to pace the ancient room, scrubbing his hands over his face as if to wash away the reality that was before him. Turning to face his friend, he stopped before her and reached forward. Slowly rubbing his hands up and down her forearms, he struggled to get his words out. "I'll say nothing," he finally uttered in a reassuring tone. "You swear that you're not on his side?"

"Never," Elizabett insisted. Gazing into Thomas' green eyes, she opened her mind to let him see the truth. Holding onto her upper arms, she could feel him recoil as she showed the interior of Gellert's home, the study where they held their conversations, the pleading expression that turned to a malicious, satisfied leer when her tricked her, and the whispered _"Imperio"_ that took her innocence. Thomas would know the truth, even if it dishonored her. She owed him that.

~~~***~~~

The boundary gate of Hogwarts never looked so good as Thomas escorted Elizabett up the gravel path from Hogsmeade. Elizabett had Apparated them from the ruins which had been in the south of France to Dove, where the two independently Apparated to the outer limit of Hogsmeade. Elizabett was weak and tired, and Thomas wrapped his strong arm protectively around her slight body as they made their way up the hill. They said little on the walk. Their conversation at the ruins had been enough. He was convinced of her good intent and had seen the struggle that she had endured. She was his friend, and although she belonged to another man; she would always be his only true love. He would do everything in his power to protect her.

At the gate, Thomas turned Elizabett toward him and held her close, transferring some of his energy to her, just enough to get her home safely. Tipping her head up in gratitude, she smiled weakly, and he couldn't resist. His head bent to hers, and their lips met in a gentle and warm kiss. Lingering only for a moment, Thomas released her and took a step back.

"Will you be alright from here?" he asked, changing the subject.

Elizabett nodded feebly as she watched a familiar, faint, pink aura shimmer lightly around him.

"Fine then," Thomas began to back away slowly. "I'll leave you to it. Good night, Lizzie," he said tenderly.

"Good night, Thomas. Thank you," her words were barely a whisper.

Silently turning to follow their individual paths, Elizabett pushed the iron gate open and passed through. Raising her fingers to her lips as she walked, she felt them tingle, and the flutter in her heart was difficult to ignore.

~~~***~~~

"Goodness gracious. You're as pale as I am," the Fat Friar exclaimed as he met Elizabett in the main entranceway. "Are you ill? Shall I fetch Madam Prince?"

Elizabett forced a smile and pleasantly waved off her old House ghost. "I'm fine, just a bit tired, and this lighting is not the best," she made an excuse.

"If you say so," the Friar sounded unconvinced as he floated before her. "Have a good night's rest. I always find that a pint of mead helps me sleep," he jovially advised as he vanished through the far wall.

Elizabett's smile became genuine. _Hmm, a glass of mead…or something of the sort might be a good idea,_ she thought as she strode down the corridor to her chambers. But, the smile faded quickly at the thought of the evening's events. No, she would need to keep her wits about her. Nothing of tonight should ever come forth.

~~~***~~~

"_Crucio!" _The hex was cast in anger. "You give me nothing of value! Months you have spent with her and that whelp, and you know nothing? I find that hard to believe."

"I've done as you asked," Thomas strained to speak from his kneeling position before Grindelwald. "But, the child shows no unusual signs of magical power. She's too young. Elizabett says that Catherine won't show any real kind of magic until she's at least two. She's not even a year yet." Grindelwald raised his wand to strike again, and Thomas' face hardened. "I've done some research myself, and she's right. It would be extraordinary if she showed anything at all at this age."

"Extraordinary is exactly it," the menace spat. "You've known this Castlewood woman since you were young. Didn't you notice anything different about her as a child?" Grindelwald knew what he was asking and knew what kind of answer to receive.

"Yes," Thomas choked. "But, I never gave it much thought. We all have different skills, different strengths."

"But, hers are passed through the generations," the blond leered. "The child will grow to be powerful…" His eyes shone with a manic glow.

"Or not," Thomas bravely interrupted at risk of retribution. "Elizabett's mother doesn't possess the same powers as her daughter. It may not follow the generations."

"I have seen with my own eyes that this child is special," he let the information carelessly slip. "Maybe your friend is not telling you everything, or maybe _you're_ not telling me everything…_Crucio!_" he cried again sending Thomas writhing on the floor.

"I've seen nothing," the tortured man maintained. "She's just a child!"

Grindelwald ended the curse and leisurely strode in front of the pained man, raising his head with the tip of his wand. Gazing into his eyes, Gellert cast _Legilimens. _Elizabett immediately came into Thomas' mind, laughing and smiling on the terrace of her home. Catherine was on the stones nearby struggling to hoist herself into a standing position using Thomas' knee as support. The child stumbled backward and landed hard on her padded backside, chin quivering at first, and then determination setting on her face. She tried again, and this time succeeded in climbing onto Thomas' lap. Her grin was priceless. The next image was of Elizabett and Catherine at Castlewood Manor during the summer. Catherine was crawling around the sitting room floor while her mother and grandparents watched her antics. There was nothing special about the child's behaviour, and Grindelwald released Thomas with disgust.

"I know she's different. I've seen it," he muttered under his breath.

"Maybe what you saw was the combined power of the family," Thomas weakly croaked. "But, I know there is nothing special about her. She's too young."

"Maybe you're right," Grindelwald relented. "The mother trusts you, as does the father. Stay close to them," he instructed. "By the way, I saw no image of Dumbledore in your mind. Why?" his curiosity was peaked.

"I have no fondness for the man," Thomas honestly stated. "You asked me to keep an eye on the woman and child, not him."

Grindelwald nodded almost imperceptibly at the answer. He had suspected Thomas' affection for the woman, but Thomas had convinced him of his desire for vengeance. The woman had broken his heart by choosing another man.

Thomas was finally released and stumbled from the house and into the driving rain. He was far too weak to Apparate all the way back to England, so he went somewhere that he had only been once before, the curious comfort of the ruins in the south of France.

~~~***~~~

The rain that had swamped Scotland for most of October left the ground sodden and difficult to traverse. The confinement, in such foul weather, had left both staff and students in short-temper and seeking distraction in a variety of sources. Heads of House and Prefects organized activities, especially for the younger students, and many professors were often found gathered around a warm fire in the staff lounge. Games of Wizard chess, discussions of students, and complaints about the weather abound. Albus stayed close to home, puttering in the lab only a few nights a week and spending time each afternoon playing with Catherine, although, Elizabett had to question the type of play as it seemed more like tests than entertainment. But, Catherine laughed and seemed to enjoy the time with her father, so Elizabett let it be. Finally, the deluge began to subside.

On the morning of the Hogsmeade weekend right before Halloween, the sun dawned bright and beautiful promising a wonderful day. There had been plenty of volunteers for the trip as everyone was tired of being cooped up with the rain. As Elizabett prepared Catherine, Albus arranged the pram, and together they left through the side exit by the greenhouses and strolled around the castle to the front path. Albus proudly smiled as he helped levitate the pram over puddles and around uneven ground. This was something he had never in his life expected to do, and it filled him with a quiet reassurance that his life was content. Strolling into town, they passed students who delighted at seeing their professors in a more casual setting. Many of the girls gathered around the pram to "coo" at Catherine who sat alert, gleefully accepting the attention.

Continuing their path, they passed the Hogs Head Inn to find the barman sweeping the front stoop. Albus slowed, and his hesitation showed in his face. It was Elizabett who made the first move.

"Good morning, Aberforth," she greet cheerily.

The coarse man silently raised his head, his face unreadable, but he stopped the sweeping as they approached.

"Hello, Aberforth," Albus softly acknowledged as he stopped the pram in front of his brother.

Aberforth glanced back and forth between Elizabett and Albus, and then to Catherine. "She looks more like 'Lizabett every day, but she gots your hair," he grunted bending to come face to face with the attentive child. "Learn to think for yourself," he advised in a low tone. "I got work to do," he mumbled as he straightened and nodded sharply to Elizabett, quickly disappearing inside the pub.

"You never did tell me what happened between you two." Elizabett placed her hand gently on the center of Albus' back as he watched his brother retreat.

"It's a long, painful story, one that still hurts," he replied as her wrapped his arm around his wife in a small hug.

Albus and Elizabett had planned to join Bathilda, Horace, Professor Kettleburn and Professor Flaurance at the Simmering Cauldron for lunch, and as the bell chimed noon in the clock tower in the town square, they approached the establishment. The heavy, pine door automatically opened to let the new patrons in, and Elizabett settled Catherine on her hip as Albus escorted them to their friends at a table near the back. As Albus pulled out a chair out for his wife to sit, Horace rose to greet them, and with that a wail from Catherine silenced the crowded room.

"Blessed be, child!" he exclaimed, then addressed the parents. "Won't she ever get used to me?"

"Must be that blinding vest," Professor Kettleburn laughed as he reached to take Catherine onto his knee. She gurgled with delight and ran her chubby fingers through his cropped beard.

"She must have a thing for fur," Horace scoffed readjusting in his seat.

The professors and a few students within earshot of the conversation all chuckled at the offended Potions Master.

Talk covered a variety of subjects from Professor Kettleburn's preparation for autumn and winter courses to Horace's boasting of his new recruits. However, as the meal came to an end, the proprietor hushed the crowd and turned up the volume of the Wireless.

"And, there you have it," the announcer said. "As of ten o'clock last evening, two of Gellert Grindelwald's _Higher Order_ have been captured by the European Magical Council in Berlin, Germany. These Wizards were posing as high-ranking officials in Hitler's army; one was second in command of the Luftwaffe, the air force that has been conducting the raids on England since the summer. Names of the Wizards have not been released, and the German military is investigating the disappearance of their two officials. An order has been issued to temporarily halt aggression against England. We can only hope that the British Ministry of Magic and the Muggle Ministry can come up with a solution to halt it for good."

One could hear a pin drop in the silence of the restaurant. All patrons gazed at each other with relieved shock and bewilderment. No more bombs? Then, as suddenly as the silence fell, a great cheer rose. Elizabett couldn't believe her ears. Had her last visit to Gellert sparked this? She suddenly gave it more thought. Would he really have sacrificed two of his own men? Especially in such high places? Her brow furrowed slightly. There was something not quite right.


	38. 38 Three Wizards

**38 – Three Wizards**

The crackling fire was the only light casting ominous shadows against the dark walls. The men gathered in a half circle around the heavy, leather armchair that faced the flames. No one spoke. No one moved. They had been summoned for a purpose. Silence encompassed them as they nervously waited. All knew what had happened last week, and their master was not pleased.

Grindelwald sat motionless, his arms resting on either side of the chair, his face unreadable in the flickering light. Each time he silently rolled the elegant, gray wand in his fingers, the men anxiously glanced sideways at each other. Who would feel his wrath first?

Finally, Grindelwald spoke, his words soft yet precise. "Grisonstall and Vorst were careless," he measured. "They let their ambition override the purpose of the mission. They were impatient and paid the price." He slowly rose to face his following, his voice rising to a commanding level. "Make no mistake," his lip curled. "I rule. I control this plan. You follow me. Do as I say, and you will be rewarded. Disobey and you will suffer the consequences." His lips twisted maliciously in a knowing manner, and the message was clearly sent. Grindelwald had eradicated two of his most ambitious followers, two wizards who had schemed to advance themselves beyond Grindelwald's _Higher Order_. He had once trusted these men, but now made his point clear that regardless of your rank, if you were disloyal, you would be eliminated.

Gellert took a moment to let the others squirm with the information and savored the memory of what he had done. He had invited the two men to a private council in a dingy hotel on the outskirts of Berlin. Arrogantly, they arrived boasting of their deeds and fearlessly taking the offered cigars and brandy, easing comfortably into the wooden chairs around the plain, scarred-top table. He had smiled at them, being the charming host, and the men thought that they would be privy to another great Grindelwald scheme. But as they let the smooth liquor warm their insides, they were startled by a stern confrontation. Body-binding charms were cast, followed by _Crucio_ as each man watch the other being tortured. Pleads for mercy, excuses, and apologies fell on deaf ears as he raised his hand to cast _Avada Kadavara_. But, he paused. If he left these men live, they would be a constant reminder to all of his followers that treachery would be dealt with swiftly and severely. His lips had curled cruelly as a calculated _Obliviate _was cast. Grindelwald had chuckled after the deed. Elizabett had been right. His skill with memory charms left much to be desired. These men would require constant attention at any hospital for they couldn't remember the simplest information.

Grindelwald sneered at the memory, but his attention was draw back to the present by a daring young man.

"Sir," Jacob Rosier boldly stepped forth, bowing his head to his master. "The Germans have lessened their attacks on Britain. I would be honored to replace Vorst and continue the battle," he volunteered.

"Another ambitious man?" Grindelwald quirked a bushy, blonde eyebrow at the young man as he raised the Elder wand menacingly.

"No, Sir," Rosier gulped trying not to show his fear. "I'm here to serve the Order."

Grindelwald's lips twisted upward into a leer, and he paused for a moment as if to consider the possibility. "No," he finally replied casually. "I think the English deserve a reprieve…for a while. The peace may lull them into a sense of security that we can take advantage of at a later date. Leave them alone. I want to focus on what is happening here for now." He turned his back to the men to face the fire. "I think I'll poke a stick into the eye of Russia and see what happens," he pensively added. "It's been a while since I've played the game. I've forgotten how fun it could be."

As Grindelwald leisurely strode around the chair to resettle himself, the men shifted in their spots, glancing apprehensively at each other. In the beginning, their master had been actively involved with the plan overseeing every aspect, but as the years went by and his following grew, he had delegated the tasks amongst his faction, only occasionally adding his hand. They surmised that with Grisonstall and Vorst's disloyalty, he felt compelled to make his presence and power known again.

~~~***~~~

"I can't believe this stupid assignment," Claudius Crabbe grumbled to his housemates as they sat at the large, library table. "My father says to listen to what Castlewood has to say, to do as she asks, that she's got more information about Muggles than anyone in the Ministry, and that because of her family history, she's passing on their weaknesses without jeopardizing her job or reputation. He says she's more Slytherin than anyone he knows. I don't see it," he shook his head doubtfully. "The hat put her in Hufflepuff for Merlin's sake! And, she's far to…" he wrinkled his nose with distaste, "nice," he ended. With a groan, he pushed away the latest assignment "This is just pointless," he grumbled, "Why on earth do need to identify the similarities and differences of how Muggles and Wizards protect themselves?"

The others at the table scoffed in agreement.

"We have Protective Charms and shields. They don't. They're killing each other off with this stupid war," one boy scoffed.

"They're so primitive. We've got spells, hexes, and curses. How can they beat that? We could wipe them out with one swat," another arrogantly added.

"My uncle says that's what Grindelwald has been doing all along, only he's been doing it slowly so that no one sees it and no one can catch him. That's smart," another praised.

During the discussion, Tom sat quietly to the side, not partaking in the conversation, but listening, as usual, to what the others had to say. He admired Grindelwald and the ideals this wizard held. A pure race was a strong race, and Muggles were contaminants in a magical melting pot. They needed to be eliminated. Tom leaned onto his elbows, thinking. But, he also, believed as Crabbe's father did. There was one person at their disposal in the school that understood Muggles in a way that no other wizard could. Professor Castlewood was tougher than she looked, he could sense that, and she held a great deal of information that he could use. Ever since the year began, he had made it a point to talk with her when he could, and to ask questions as she had suggested the year before. He looked forward to taking the course the following year, as he felt it was important, for the same reasons that his Housemates believed it was not. Knowledge was power, and he intended to be strong. What's more, he understood his Housemates' assignment. Castlewood was trying to point out that although Wizards had spells, curses, and magical protections, Muggle technology could blast through most of them. Wizards had to understand that their magic was only as powerful as the wielder.

"Hey, Tom," Crabbe nudged his friend from his thoughts. "Sluggy is having a meeting tonight, seven thirty in his office. He says we can bring a friend. Want to come with me?"

Tom nodded slowly, "Sure," he quietly replied feeling a pensive grin creep over his features.

This was something else he found very interesting and intended to be a part of it some day. Professor Slughorn's gatherings were a place where the older, more experienced boys and the pompous professor discussed politics, school policy, history of magical folk, connections with powerful witches and wizards, and so on. On the nights of these meetings, Tom would make sure that he was in the Common Room when the older boys returned. He would sit and listen as they continued their discussions with whoever was in the chamber at the time. The older boys felt priviledged and arrogantly showed their superiority over the others. Tom planned to belong to this elite group. It would be a place where he could ask questions about topics that many of the other professors and students found offensive or distasteful. It would be a place where he could accumulate knowledge, storing it away for future use. He had a vision that one-day he would rival Grindelwald in power and be the one to contend with, a day when he would be the most powerful wizard in the world. He quickly caught on to his lessons and was always looking for more, and his professors constantly praised his skill, giving him every opportunity to practice and advance.

_Not bad for an orphan boy from the Muggle world_, he smirked to himself.

~~~***~~~

Armondo Dippet sat at his cluttered, oak desk in the circular Headmaster's office. The papers in front of him were a blur, he had seen so many like them over the years – letters from the Ministry requesting more of Professor Dumbledore's time away from Hogwarts, letters indicating their desire to offer him a permanent post should he consider leaving the school, even a letter from the Wizengamot praising Dumbledore's cool head and command of diplomacy in times of difficulty. Dippet snorted with a smile. He was proud to have such a man on his staff, and he, too, had often relied on his skill in school matters. The aging Headmaster leaned back in his chair, resting. He held hope that one day, when he retired, the Transfiguration professor would consider becoming Headmaster. Dippet knew that Albus would make an excellent leader; his experience with the man had repeatedly proven that. But, interestingly enough, his colleague shied away from such offers. He was quiet and unassuming, yet held such a presence that his authority could not be denied. Indeed, the man was an enigma.

A knock sounded on the outer door, and Dippet startled, scooping the parchments into a neat pile, and placing them in a low, wicker basket on the edge of the desk. Rising from his position, he commanded, "Come in," and the door opened for the guest. Walking across the Oriental carpet, he extended his hand, drawing the visitor into the room.

"So glad that you could make it. I know you have many things to do now that the Christmas exams are over." He offered Albus a seat near the fire.

An early, winter storm raged against the side of the castle, plastering the diamond-paned windows with thick, white flakes. The heat of the fire was welcoming to the chilled professor for many of the corridors between his classroom on the fourth floor and the Administration Tower were open to the elements. Although environmental spells kept the snow out, when the wind blew as it did today, the chill went right through the protections.

Albus stood in front of the flames for a moment, warming his hands then turned to warm his backside. Once toasted, he took a seat in one of the twin chintz chairs that faced each other. Armondo joined him and called a house elf for tea.

"It's been a while since we've had a chat," the Headmaster amiably began as he poured a strong Earl Grey from the pot. "It's been a busy year. I hope you'll be able to have a peaceful holiday. Time to work on your research. Time with your family. Catherine's first birthday is this weekend. By the way, thank you for inviting me. I'm honored," he tipped his balding head graciously.

"The honor is ours," Albus smiled genially at his old friend and superior. "I realize that Hogwarts' security will be compromised with the guests arriving, but I assure you that the group will be small and those joining us from outside these walls have been cleared by the Ministry."

"I have no doubt," the older man dismissed. "I honestly don't know how you have managed to balance it all. Your time and attention has been in great demand, especially since the summer."

"I have a very understanding wife," Albus beamed as he rested the cup on his lap.

"Indeed," Armondo agreed. "She's a lovely woman."

Albus nodded at the praise.

The Headmaster watched his guest with the experience of his many years. He had seen professors come and go, advance themselves and retire, move on to other things, but this man puzzled him. At one time, he had even been offered the prestigious position of Minister of Magic and had declined.

Albus noted the scrutiny and raised his eyebrows enquiringly. "You have a question," he stated with a genial smile. "What can I do for you, Armondo?"

The older man sighed and replaced the cup to saucer, lowering it to his lap. "Maybe it's what I can do for you," he took off his cap to scratch his head. "I have received yet another letter from the Ministry. I'm sure you receive the request as well." Albus nodded. It had arrived that morning. "My friend, I respect your devotion and dedication to the school and your duty to the Ministry, but there are only so many hours in the day, and I fear that you are wearing yourself thin. I would never ask you to make a choice between them and us, but I am curious to know why you have repeatedly refused such lucrative offers."

Albus paused, weighing his words carefully. "I find teaching much more enjoyable and satisfying," he began. "One has to consider what makes them happy in life, and to have a job simply because it is necessary isn't enough. You have to take pleasure in what you do. I find that to have influence on a young person's life, to mold their skills and watch them grow is far more rewarding. Yes, I enjoy helping the Ministry, and yes, I have considered their offers, but my home is here, at Hogwarts. And now with Elizabett and Catherine, in these dangerous times, this is where I belong."

Armondo studied the man for a moment, and then rose toward his desk. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a small, black velvet pouch, and handed it to Albus. "Take this, then. It may help."

Albus took the pouch and poured the contents into his hand. Holding the long, gold chain in the air, he examined the ornate hourglass. "I've heard of these but have never seen one," he curiously studied the Time-Turner. "But, I don't think it will be necessary." He replaced the pendant into the pouch.

"Maybe not, but then again, maybe," Armondo shrugged as he returned to his spot by the fire. "But the Department of International Magical Co-operation agreed with me and approved my request. Use it if you need it. It is at your disposal."

The two men settled themselves in front of the fire once again and continued their chat for another half hour. When Albus left, he had the Time-Turner neatly tucked into the inside pocket of his charcoal work robe. He had no intention of using it. Playing with time could be a dangerous thing, a misuse of magic that he had no desire to toy with. It was far to tempting. Although, he appreciated the gesture from his concerned Headmaster, he would tuck this temptation away in the recesses of his sock draw.


	39. 39 Mothers

**39 - Mothers**

"I should have known better. I knew he'd be late," Elizabett muttered angrily as she abruptly pulled a smock over Catherine's head and quickly tied the small boots.

Catherine quietly sat on the edge of the kitchen table patiently waiting for her mother to fasten her bonnet next.

"Do you have any idea where he went?" Thomas asked as he lifted the child into his arms and placed her on his hip.

"Not a clue," Elizabett fairly fumed, gathering a package from the living room. "And it's not like he didn't had plenty of time to tell me. We were up early and had breakfast together. He was in a bit of a mood and really quiet. Then, he simply got up and said he had an errand to run. Before I knew it, he was gone. That was hours ago. We're due at my parents' soon, and he still has to get ready."

"This isn't the first time he's pulled a stunt list this either," Thomas snorted, and then his lips twisted upward slightly. "Maybe he's planning a surprise?" He tried to lift her spirits.

Elizabett quirked an eyebrow thoughtfully. It was possible. Albus did like to surprise her on occasion. Just last month, for Valentine's Day, he had procured tickets to a special concert at the University of Edinburgh. A guest cellist from Romania was the featured artist, and afterwards, they had gone to a late dinner in Nicholson Square. It had been a lovely evening that ended with sweet music of their own. Elizabett smiled at the memory, but the smile slowly turned to a frown.

"He knew we had plans, and he's late," she complained, slowly shaking her head.

"Speaking of plans," Thomas handed a fidgety Catherine back to her mother who placed her on the floor to scoot around. "Kalina will be upset with me if _I'm_ late." He smirked. "We're having lunch with her family, and then dinner with mine." He rolled his eyes.

"Glued at the hip," Elizabett chuckled. "Do you still claim not to see a future?" She smiled.

Thomas shook his head with a strange expression clouding his face, one of half defeat, half resolve. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small box. "What do you think?" he asked, handing it to his friend.

Elizabett took the box and opened it to reveal a simple gold band with a single large, princess-cut diamond. It must have been two karats. She broke into a huge grin. "It's about bloody well time!" she exclaimed giving her friend a squeezing hug, but he didn't seem enthusiastic. "What is it? Don't tell me that you're still not sure?" she asked with concern.

Thomas shrugged slightly. "She's not you," he said with sad eyes. "But, she's a good woman, although a bit…impulsive."

"Do you love her?" Elizabett tipped her head inquiringly.

It took a second for him to answer, but Thomas finally twitched a small smile, and said, "Yes. I've learned over the years that love comes in different forms. You will always be my first love. I can never deny that. But, I've learned to love another. I plan to ask her to marry me tonight." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Good luck," Elizabett drew him into a supportive embrace.

"Goodness! I leave you alone for a few hours, and come home to find you in the arms of another man!" Albus burst into the living room in a flurry, his dusty, gray, work robe swirling around his feet with his speed. "Hello, Thomas," he reached his hand to the other man, a broad grin on his face. "Sorry I'm late, dear," he placed a quick kiss on Elizabett's forehead before dashing into the bedroom. "I'll be ready in just a few minutes, and then we can go. Thomas, where are you off to today?"

"I have to pick up Kalina soon, and then we're heading to her parents'," he called to the half-closed bedroom door.

"Lovely girl," Albus returned cheerily. "Full of spunk."

Thomas grinned at Elizabett. "Spunk. Good word," he chuckled. Bending to give Catherine a kiss good-bye, he rose to also kiss Elizabett, "accidentally" brushing his lips against hers. She didn't pull away.

Albus returned to the living room wearing a clean, navy and white robe; his auburn beard was left untied and covered the front of the closure. "Ready," he announced with a flourish of his hands.

"As am I," Thomas reached the door first. "Have a wonderful time," he smiled as he bid the couple good-bye.

"And you," Albus scooped his daughter into his arms. Taking Catherine's small hand in his, he made the giggling child wave as Thomas left. "You look ravishing, dear," he turned to his wife, wrapping his free hand around her waist, and drawing her affectionately to him to kiss the tip of her nose. "Let's get moving before we're really late," he advised with a grin.

Heading out the open door, he escorted his family from their chambers, down the hall to the Administration Tower, and to a Floo connection set up by the Headmaster.

The rain of mid-March turned the dead, brown grass of late winter into a lush green carpet with budding crocuses and ground violets. Upon their arrival at Castlewood Manor, Elizabett took Catherine to join her mother and grandmother in the solarium, while Julius and Albus cast drying and warming spells, preparing the terrace for a delightful afternoon tea.

It was Mothering Sunday; a special day steeped in ancient tradition stemming back to when pagans and early Romans honoured the goddess Cybele. Since that time, mid-March, when the earth came back to life after a long winter's sleep, was considered the perfect time to honor mothers and their unique ability to reproduce and nurture the young. Women were considered the creators of the race, and mothers, the caregivers. Without them, wizardkind, mankind for that matter, would not exist. This was a day when mothers were pampered and revered.

Albus levitated a padded, rocking chair from the sitting room to the terrace and placed it in the only streak of sun. Grandmaman Lestrange would have a warm place of honour today. Julius had Portkeyed to France that morning to fetch her as tradition deemed that all female lines from the family gather for the day. With Elizabett joining the older women as the newest Lestrange mother of the three generations, the manor filled with an energy that was absolutely revitalizing. Albus had never experienced such a stimulating feeling and hoped it would last beyond the gathering and follow them home. It crept under his skin, and tingled seductively.

As the afternoon passed and tea came to an end, simple gifts were exchanged. Both Marceilla and Elizabett presented the matriarch with dried herbs and teas that the old woman had difficulty preparing on her own, now that her fingers where gnarled. The plants had been lovingly grown in pots in the solarium and in a far corner of Greenhouse Four, and dried at the windows to soak up as much power from of the weak winter rays as possible. Elizabett presented her mother with an exotic, flowering plant that she had nurtured from a cutting from Professor Flaurance's private garden. Marceilla delighted as she stoked the purring blossom. She had the perfect place for it in her solarium. Albus had Catherine present Elizabett with a colorful finger-painting that Elizabett felt Albus probably had more fun doing than the child. Now, she understood what had happened the other afternoon when Albus came home with blue paint on his nose, and Catherine had red paint in her ear. Elizabett had panicked thinking it was blood, but Albus "took care" of the situation quickly. The family laughed at the retelling of the story.

With a fussy Catherine in her arms, Elizabett took the child upstairs for a nap while Marceilla joined Julius in the kitchen for a private moment, leaving Grandmaman Lestrange and Albus alone on the terrace. Eyeing him suspiciously, the old woman took firm hold of Albus' hand, flipping the palm up, and began to examine the lines.

"You've been up to something, cher." She spoke guardedly poking the palm with a crooked finger. "Many things. Secrets," she muttered as she studied the lines "Some stop at the heart. Some stop at the head. You are trying hard to balance everything, but it cannot be done. Something will suffer."

"I won't let that happen," Albus quietly assured as he confidently but slowly withdrew his hand from her grip. He knew well enough not to deny the old woman's insight.

Shaking her twisted finger at him, she clucked, "Don't be so sure. There are things that are out of our control. As hard as we may try, if your attention is too divided, inevitably something will suffer. I don't want it to be Elizabett and Catherine."

Albus looked taken aback. "Never," he exclaimed lightly. "I love them. They're probably my only true reasons for happiness."

Grandmaman patted his hand and smiled knowingly. "Take care of what you have. Happiness can be a fickle mistress if not cared for properly."

"Grandmaman," Elizabett returned to the terrace, pulling a chair beside her husband, and giving her grandmother a playfully wary look. "What are you telling Albus?"

The old woman smiled shrewdly at the young woman. "Nothing that he doesn't already know in his heart," she stated as she began to rock in the chair and stare at the clearing sky. "It looks like the dark clouds are leaving us. This is a good sign." She lowered her head to twitch a meaningful smile at Albus.

Elizabett quirked an eyebrow at her husband who smiled sweetly, then leaned to peck her on the cheek.

The dim lamp on the small, side table cast long shadows across the living room walls. It was late, and Albus had taken his sleeping daughter from his wife's arms as they returned home. Gently tucking her into bed as Elizabett changed from her day clothes into her nightdress, he tenderly kissed the downy cheek. It had been an interesting day, and he could still feel the tingle from the gathering of the Lestrange women.

Sitting on the sofa, waiting for Elizabett to join him, he thought of past Mother's Days. There had been so few, and they certainly had never been like today. His mother disassociated herself from her family after leaving Hogwarts and marrying his father. She had been Muggle-born, and it vexed her terribly. She worked hard to improve her Wizard status, a trait some saw at domineering and arrogant. She was a strong woman, determined to be the best she could, giving her children every opportunity and every protection possible. Percival was proud of her, and Albus remembered that each Mother's Day, he made the children perform a special task that would please her. Sometimes it was the learning a particular spell or the development of a new skill. Albus smiled to himself. He remembered when he was ten, the year before attending Hogwarts; he had surprised his mother by transfiguring a plain, cotton napkin into a fine, lace handkerchief. This was a skill that he enjoyed very much, and she had been very pleased, telling him to keep practicing, that he would go far.

Albus grew solemn again. That summer, all would change. After Ariana's attack and Percival's incarceration, his mother moved the family to Godric's Hollow and became reclusive, pushing away all offers of friendship from neighbors and focusing all of her attention on her family. Albus felt her pain and was determined to be the best that he could be in school to make his mother proud. He surpassed every expectation, winning recognition and awards, making a name for himself. In his graduating year, when she died, his heart had broken in more ways than he thought possible. All of his hopes and dreams came to a crashing halt, and responsibility was thrust upon him that he had no desire for. He was the unwitting head of his family. There would be no more Mother's Days, just memories.

Albus leaned back into the soft sofa, staring blankly into the shadows. Today had been remarkable. Three generations of women, so close, so caring of each other, so powerful. He closed his eyes, a sensation filling him like he had only felt a few times before, a swelling of his chest with such intense emotion that he thought he'd burst. He took a slow, deep breath trying to lessen the pressure.

Across the room, Elizabett silently stood half way between the bedroom and the living room watching her husband and feeling the strength of his emotion. She didn't know what was wrong, but desperately wanted to help. Creeping toward him and easing onto the cushion by his side, he opened his eyes and twitched a small smile at her. Reaching his right arm across the back of the cushions, he invited her into an embrace. Elizabett scooted forward, wrapping her arm around his waist, and snuggling into his chest. Feeling the steady rise and fall of each breathe, they sat in the quiet of the room, one emitting strength and comfort, and one absorbing it.

After what felt like an eternity, Albus finally spoke. "My errand this morning…" he slowly began, "I went to Godric's Hollow."

Elizabett raised her head slightly to gaze up at him, but he avoided her eyes.

"I went to visit my mother," he continued. "It's been many years, but the plot remains the same. I'd never felt the urge to return before this year. There were too many memories. It hurt too much."

Elizabett lowered her head back to his chest and could feel his heart race; the pain was deep.

"I can only attribute the need to return to you, to our daughter, our family. You are an incredible woman… your strength and kindness…your support and devotion… the mother of my child," he sighed. "She would have liked you," he quietly rambled. "Mothers carry the world upon their shoulders for their children, make noble sacrifices for them, and teach them with the love and gentle firmness that only a mother can. They feel their child's pain and fight with the ferociousness of a lioness when that child is threatened. Mothers keep such characteristics well hidden beneath a tender and loving exterior until needed, but it's there, and the child feels it. They know it and are secure in the knowledge that their mother is always there for them." He tipped his head to place a tender kiss on Elizabett's forehead. "You are a wonderful mother," he praised. "I trust you to teach Catherine in the Old Way of your ancestors, to guide her and help her develop her skills to their fullest. I fear that this battle with the Muggles is just the beginning. I want her protected in every way possible."

"Of course," Elizabett whispered in the darkness.

Albus gave a half nod and a sigh of relief. His message had been clear and understood. He would watch as mother taught child in the practice of ancient magic thought long lost. Such power would be a wonder to behold, and one that he may need in the future.


	40. 40 Something Evil This Way Comes

**40 – Something Evil This Way Comes**

It was late, and the corridors were dark, but the portraits slept uneasily, carefully listening for anything out of the ordinary. It was a dangerous time. Students were fearful, and teachers patrolled both day and night. There was something amiss at Hogwarts, and everyone was on edge.

Albus cautiously made his rounds down the fourth floor corridor toward the library then turned left, heading for the open hallway on the east side of the building. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and his grip tightened around the wand that was firmly held in his right hand. Over the past few years, he had experienced many things: Grindelwald's increase of power, the devastating battle in Europe that had finally expanded to include countries as far away as the United States and Australia, and finally the confirmation that his old friend had indeed had a hand in the Muggle dissention from the start, but never had he experienced such an ominous feeling of dread and fear as he felt now.

Stopping for a moment, he listened, not just with his ears, but also with his senses, as Elizabett had taught him. His lips twitched upward briefly at the thought. She was a remarkable woman with an inner strength that could not be denied, and she was a patient teacher. He had sat in on many of her lessons with Catherine and found that he had a talent for tapping into certain Earth magicks. He enjoyed opening himself to the flow of energy that surrounded him, finding an odd comfort at a sensory level that enabled him to "hear" approaching forces before his corporal senses could respond. It pleased her, and they enjoyed the new connection that it created. He also liked that this sensation made him feel more powerful, invigorated.

Tipping his head to the right, he reached out again. There was something out there, but it was distant, and he couldn't locate it. Tightening his jaw, he moved on, descending the staircase and beginning his patrol of the third floor.

"Lannie, Lannie. Look. Isn't it pretty?" four-year-old Catherine bobbed her curly, auburn head with excitement as she touched a potted rose bush that sat in the corner of the stone terrace. The pale pink buds darkened to fuchsia with the child's gentle tap.

A gangly, black-haired eleven-year-old approached from behind, a timid smile growing on her plain face. She was a frequent visitor to the Dumbledore home as she was the only other child to be raised in the castle. The two had become unlikely friends.

"You're so lucky," she sighed as she watched the small child bounce in front of the bush. "Mother says that wandless magic, like what you and your mum have, is really rare. She told me not to tell anyone about it, to keep it a secret."

"Mummy and Daddy told me it's a secret, too." Catherine cocked her head curiously as she looked at her friend. "I don't know why," she added. Her parents had always been concerned about who she showed her special talents to, but lately, with all the fuss in the castle, they seemed to be more protective than usual. Catherine leaned forward and twitched a sly grin, whispering, "But I'm allowed to tell you." She giggled. "Want to see something else?" The little girl beamed excitedly as she returned her attention to the bush.

Eileen Prince nodded her head and moved closer.

Catherine fervently grabbed the thorny stocks with the tips of her fingers of both hands and squeezed her pale blue eyes shut as she scrunched her pixy face in concentration. Within seconds, the rose bush doubled in size, and then tripled, the buds blossoming into gloriously brilliant flowers. The child released the bush and clapped her hands with delight, proudly turning to her friend.

"You've controlled it!" Elaine exclaimed with a laugh. "This time Professor Dumbledore won't have to use _Diffindo_ to find the patio."

Catherine's eyes grew to the size of galleons at the memory. One night, about a month ago, her father had arrived home late and hadn't thought to illuminate the patio before sitting on the ledge of the low, stone wall to watch the stars. His yelp at receiving a backside full of thorns had her mother run to his aid, and Catherine run to hide in her room. She expected a stern scolding, and when her mother called her out to the terrace, she was very reluctant to go. However, even with the reprimand (she should have told someone what she'd done), they had been understanding, and had even praised the beauty of the flowers, and the power of her skill. Her father, however, insisted that the bushes be reduced a manageable size and cast an effective spell before limping into the apartment to have the thorns removed by her mother.

Since that day, her mother had worked with her every evening, practicing control and teaching her interesting ways to defend herself. With all that was going on, Elizabett felt it prudent that Catherine, even at her young age, should know some of the basics. She and Albus made it a game, and Catherine developed a quick and efficient _Protego_. And, although Catherine couldn't understand the reason for the different lessons, but she loved the uninterrupted time spent with her parents.

The light flakes of snow that reflected in the enchanted ceiling did little to easy the students' minds. September had been relatively uneventful, but as the months passed, the tension within the school rose to new heights, and the Great Hall became a noisy place at dinnertime. The latest discussions revolved around two issues: the unseen force that had been terrorizing the occupants of the castle had mysteriously petrified yet another student. The count was now up to six. And, the staff had had an emergency meeting before dinner to discuss the possible closure of Hogwarts. No decision had been made yet, but the buzz was undeniably one of great concern.

"Hey, Tom," Claudius Crabbe called as he slid into his place at the Slytherin table. "Something else, isn't it?" he jerked his head toward the mass of students who were bent close each other chattering anxiously. "You ever notice that it's only Mudbloods being attacked?" He nodded to the Ravenclaw table where Olive Hornby was ruthlessly teasing an awkward-looking Muggle-born. "Sounds like someone's out to cleanse the school," he stated as his housemates nodded in agreement. However, his eyes widened hungrily as the food magically appeared before them, and he abruptly stopped talking to shovel spoonfuls onto his plate. When his plate was full, he absently changed the subject. "Given anymore thought to what you asked Sluggy last night?"

Tom had been silent up to this point, allowing the older boy to rattle on, but his mind was carefully processing the information. He raised his head from his meal, and the gathering of "friends" stopped to dutifully listen to his response. "Not really," the quiet sixth-year replied. "It was just a question, curiosity. That's all."

"Come on. Really? I don't believe you. You always have a reason for doing things. You can tell us," Crabbe eagerly encouraged, his chubby cheeks becoming rosy as he scooped more food into his overflowing mouth.

"Horcruxes are forbidden topics. You can't even find anything about them in the library," one of the Slytherin Slughorn Elite voiced. "Maybe in the Restricted Section, but who's going to give a student permission to go in there to look up horcruxes?"

"Maybe Slughorn will give Tom permission," a third considered. "You seem to be a favorite," he directed toward his solemn classmate. "Besides, what did Sluggy say when he kept you afterward? I thought the man was going to have a heart attack!"

"He told me that it was a dangerous topic and that I should leave it alone," Tom replied as he casually sliced a piece of roast beef and slowly put it in his mouth.

In reality, Professor Slughorn had been very helpful. Tom had asked similar questions last year, right before summer break, and the arrogant professor had given him a good amount of useful information, explaining how a horcrux worked and what was involved in making one. Tom could see that the older man had immediately regretted divulging the information. He had become caught up in himself once again. But, by the time he had realized what he'd said, it was too late.

By the end of summer, Tom had put that information to use. After visiting his uncle in the dull, little village of Little Hangleton and absconding an ancient, family heirloom, he paid a late-night visit to his father and grandparents. The timing was perfect. It was a dark and cloudy night, and they didn't expect a thing. To kill so easily had been the most intense feeling that he had ever experienced, and one that didn't seem to bother him in the least. They were filthy Muggles, not worth the air that they breathed. Yet, their deaths were important. They provided him with the strength he needed to make his first horcrux, splitting a sliver of his soul, and placing it into the gaudy, gold and black family ring that had been taken from his uncle. He now wore the ring on his right hand and fingered it in thought. His talent with memory charms was highly advanced for someone his age, and others had taken the blame for his misdeeds. His black eyes glistened in memory.

Last night's question, however, had unnerved the Potions professor, and it was obvious that he didn't want to answer. Tom had wanted to know if it were possible to make more than one horcrux, and what would happen if someone did. Slughorn' reaction had been dramatic, grabbing his chest and wheezing into his seat. He had paled more than any of the House ghosts, and it took a moment before he calmed himself. Once the other boys had been abruptly dismissed, the professor had succumbed to Tom's sincerity and charm, telling the eager student what he wanted to know. Professor Slughorn did, however, have enough prudence to end with a stern warning about the horrific side effects. Tom didn't care. He had been satisfied with the answer, and the information had merely solidified his determination to achieve his final goal. It would be a long task, but he had a plan. He would become immortal, and the most powerful wizard the world had ever seen. He would surpass Grindelwald's reputation, building one of his own. His "friends" had already begun to call him by the new name that he had fashioned for himself: Lord Voldemort. He would show them all.

"Shh, don' go makin' a sound. Ya know I gotta keep ya hid," the hulking form of a young half-giant roughly whispered to a large, wooden box that was securely tucked under his left arm.

It was after curfew, but the boy silently crept through the hall, descending into the bowels of the castle until he reached his destination. Furtively looking over his hunched shoulder, he opened the small, wooden door that was nearly hidden in a distant corner of the dungeon. Stooping to enter the tiny, dimly lit chamber, Hagrid gently place the box on a stone bench by the opposite wall. Lifting the lid, he scooped out a large, furry spider and cuddled it in the crook of his right arm, stroking it as one would stroke a pet cat. He spoke to it in a calm, low tone, and the Acromantula began to make gurgling sounds, almost a purr.

Gently returning the creature to the box and adjusting the nesting material, Hagrid stood to leave. "You gotta stay put," he instructed in a hushed voice. "There's somethin' goin' on an' it ain't safe."

Keeping the lid askew, he bid his pet goodnight, promising to come back the following night with food. The spider reached to the top of the box and braced his long, front legs on the lip, hoisting himself up to look over the edge, multiple, glistening eyes shimmering in the faint light. He would be patient and wait. His friend had not let him down yet.

As Hagrid lumbered back up to Gryffindor Tower, a tall figure lurked in the shadow by the suit of armor at the top of the stairs of the dungeon entrance. The Prefects had been recruited to help patrol the areas considered less dangerous, and this Slytherin Prefect had seen the young Gryffindor head to the dungeon late at night on several occasions. Tonight, he decided to follow, determine to discover what he was up to. Sliding along the smooth, stone wall, Tom retraced Hagrid's steps down the stairwell toward the small chamber. Something was going on down there. Maybe something that he could use.

Elizabett's eyes flew open. A cold sheen of sweat coated her body and soaked into the nightdress that she wore. She was shivering. Had she really heard it? Staring up at the white, plaster ceiling, she lay in the dark feeling the steady rise and fall of her husband's undisturbed breathing. _Kill. Must have_. There it was again, but it wasn't the words that she heard. It was the sensation of something evil approaching. She shivered hard and threw the covers from her body. Standing by the bed, fully alert, she reached out with every fiber of her senses. _Kill_. She felt it again. It was between the walls somewhere close. Grabbing her wand and dashing to Catherine's room, she stood over her child watching the angelic form innocently sleep. Calming slightly, Elizabett moved back into the living room and strained to "hear" any other sound, but it seemed to have moved on. She waited, unmoving, completely focused on listening. Suddenly, she jumped at the feeling of something touching her shoulder. She spun with such a force that Albus leapt back, startled.

"What's wrong?" he asked with concern, placing his hand on Elizabett's directed wand and lowering it away from his heart. "You're shaking," he drew his wife into a comforting embrace.

She rested her head on his chest and desperately wrapped her arms around his waist. "It was here," she sputtered. "Whatever is in the castle was here." She held on tight. "It woke me. I could feel it in the walls. It wants to kill. It has a hunger to kill. It's hunting. Oh,

Albus, I want Catherine out of Hogwarts. My parents will take her. Petite can go with her. I want her safe until whatever is here is caught," she rambled in panic.

"Of course," Albus readily agreed. "We'll contact your parents in the morning. I'm certain that someone can take over your class while you take Catherine away."

Elizabett nodded into his soft nightshirt. "How could this be happening? What _is_ it?"

"I don't know. Until the creature is caught, I'm afraid that we'll know very little. Armando and I were discussing the closing of the school again last night. I think he's going to make an announcement at dinner tonight. Parents will be contacted, and students will be sent home as soon as possible. No one has been killed yet, but we don't want to take the chance. I trust your feelings. This is the first time that you have sensed its desire to kill. Come," he gently escorted Elizabett back to the bedroom and sat her on the bed. "Morning will come soon enough. Try to get some sleep."

They lay down, and he tucked her protectively under his arm, enveloping her with his body, hoping that she would sleep some more, but something told him that that wasn't going to happen.

A shriek echoed through the second floor corridor, and professors on duty dashed toward the cry.

"She's dead! She's dead!" Olive Hornby howled into her hands as Bathilda took charge of the girl while Professors Merrithought and Kettleburn pushed the lavatory door open.

All of the taps were running, and the floor was flooded. The professors quickly turned the water off before splashing through the puddles to a fifth-year Ravenclaw who lay on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling, a look of pure terror on her pale face.

"Merlin save us," Professor Merrithought muttered as he bent to wave his wand over the still form.

"Is she…?" Professor Kettleburn began to ask as he knelt by the girl's side.

"I'm afraid so," the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher quietly replied as Headmaster Dippet and Albus hurried into the room. "All my teachings seem so useless." He shook his head. "How could I have prepared them for this?" the gentle man asked no one.

"Our first death," Armando removed his small cap and wiped his balding head with his bare hand. "There's no question now. The school is to be closed." Turning to Albus, he calmly ordered, "Gather the Prefects. We'll need their help in organizing the students." Addressing the rest of the staff who had gathered at the entrance of the lavatory, he continued, "I want everyone kept away from this area. I don't want the body of this child exposed to the rest of the student population. There will be panic and sorrow, but we don't need mass hysteria."

There were brief nods as the staff were given assignments and departed to carry out their duties.

As Albus descended the stairs to call a meeting of the Prefects, he met Tom Riddle on his way up.

"Is it true?" Tom asked the Transfiguration professor as the two stopped, one half way down, the other half way up.

"I'm afraid so," Albus warily watched the boy. What was he doing here? How had he arrived so quickly? "Whatever this creature is it has finally killed a student. The school will be closed until further notice. Gather the other Prefects in my office. The Headmaster needs your help."

"Yes, Sir," Tom sullenly replied. As they began to part, Tom suddenly turned, "Sir," he called, "What if the creature is caught?"

Albus turned slowly, examining the boy suspiciously. "Do you know something of this?" he questioned.

Tom paused. This may be his chance. He couldn't have the school closed. He'd be sent back to the orphanage. "I wouldn't want to accuse someone without proof," he measured his words carefully as the Deputy Headmaster watched him with mistrust, but this left enough suspicion in Albus' mind to keep a close eye on the boy.

Tom headed to the dungeon in a fury, his black, school robe rippling behind with his speed. Crabbe followed, along with two Prefects: one from Ravenclaw and one from Hufflepuff. It would do no good to do this alone. He needed witnesses."Bombardia" blasted open the dungeon door to the small chamber, exposing a startled half-giant snuggling a large, grotesque spider. As Hagrid jumped, so did the creature, and the boy securely held it to his barrel chest.

Tom aimed his wand at the young Gryffindor and made his accusation. "So it has been you. You and that monster. It finally killed someone Hagrid. It's dangerous. They're going to close the school because of you and that thing."

The other Prefects raised their wands at the frightened third-year as he sputtered an incomprehensible denial. "No, it wern't…yer wrong…Aragog din' do nuthin'…"

As the boys advanced, Hagrid backed deeper into the chamber, but Aragog leapt from his arms.

"Get it!" the Ravenclaw Prefect yelled as he cast futile spells at the creature as it scurried out the door.

"Go, Aragog. Run," Hagrid yelled as the spider disappeared around the corner and out through a crack in the foundation.

"You'll pay for this," Tom threatened as he stepped forward.

The others encircled Hagrid and escorted him out of the dungeons and to the Headmaster's office. The story would be told by three Prefects from three Houses. Hagrid would take the blame and be expelled, and that creature would no longer be in the castle. The school would stay open, and Tom would receive an award for _Special Services to the School._

However, Albus still didn't trust the boy. He sensed Tom's panic at hearing that the school would be closed. He sensed his mind formulating a solution to a problem, but he had no proof other than his feeling, and the Headmaster and most of the staff praised Tom's cool head in ridding the school of it's terror. His suspicions would be difficult to prove.

Albus and Elizabett curled up in front of the fire in their cozy apartment that overlooked the snow-covered grounds that led toward the greenhouses. A misshapen snowman with a pointy Gryffindor hat and Hufflepuff scarf grinned from the patio. A log on the hearth split and sputtered sending sparks up the chimney. Catherine had been put to bed an hour ago after enjoying her first afternoon back to the castle after a week away.

Albus stretched his legs forward and arched his back.

"You still think something's wrong," Elizabett quietly observed her silent husband. He nodded. "It's a good thing what you did: keeping Hagrid close as Gamekeeper. Professor Kettleburn was delighted to have him stay." She paused for a moment. "Do you think that Aragog really was the monster?"

Albus pressed his lips together and stared into the flames. A minute passed before he finally spoke. "No," he replied lowly. "I truly do not believe that Hagrid or Aragog are responsible for the incidences that have taken place in the school."

"What _do_ you think?" his wife softly asked.

Another minute passed before he answered. "I have my suspicions, but no proof. I cannot make an accusation without that proof, but I will be keeping my eyes and ears open."

"You think it's Tom, don't you?" Elizabett straightened to look at her husband. "He came to the school with advanced skills and you had your suspicions then. You once told me that he had great control over his power, and I have seen how he manipulates the other students and staff. You also said that he claimed he could talk to snakes, that they whispered things to him. Parseltongue is a rare talent, a dark sign, and hereditary. I know about hereditary talents." She paused and took a slow breath. "I know it's only legend, but all legends have a basis in truth. Do you believe that Salazar Slytherin built a Chamber of Secrets in Hogwarts? Do you think that it was opened, and it was Slytherin's creature that terrorized the school? Legend says that only the Heir of Slytherin can open the Chamber, and Slytherin was a Parselmouth. So is Tom." She paused again and let Albus think. But, his silence was enough. He was thinking the same as her. Elizabett closed her eyes and eased back into the sofa. "Oh blessed Merlin. It's not over, is it?"

Albus slowly inhaled, eyes never leaving the flames. "For now, I believe it is. Tom will be careful. He knows I'll be watching. But, I think we're in for something far worst." Albus' reply was soft but resolute.


	41. 41 Resistance

**41 – Resistance**

The area was artificially lit with spotlights beaming into the crowded, dirty, train yard. The boxcars sat motionless on the tracks as people were herded like cattle through the sliding, wooden gates toward the waiting guards. The cries of wives being separated from their husbands, calls from fathers being pulled from families, and the wails of frightened children echoed into the night. They had been dragged from their homes, ushered into the streets, and forced onto trucks. Many children were still in pajamas, as were several of the old men and women. Most were without proper clothing for the bitter, winter night.

As the women and children were loaded onto the first set of boxcars, the men were forced onto the last set. Armed guards held their rifles high, threatening any who resisted. There was a scuffle, and a shot was fired. A young man fell, his lifeless body being stepped over as the terrified mass silently complied with their captors' wishes. Once the group boarded the cramped quarters, the gates were closed, and the sliding doors of the boxcars were sealed and bolted shut with heavy locks. Fingers slipped through the wooden slats, and frightened eyes peered into the night. Wails, whimpers, and calls to family members were hushed with firm German commands, and finally, an empty shot rang into the darkness. There was a moment of silence, but as the train shuddered, the cries resumed as the locomotive jolted forward taking the Italian Jews to a work camp.

"Sommes-nous prets?" (Are we ready?) A young wizard whispered in French to the group that hid in the shadow of the telegraph building in the left corner of the train yard.

The group nodded simultaneously. They had done this before, many times, and the result had always been successful.

"Pay attention…focus on your target… on my mark…Go." His harsh whisper puffed smoke with exertion, and a loud crack split the air as twenty witches and wizards Disapparated into the night.

This was not as easy as it had been the last time. The boxcars were more crowded, but several magical folk reappeared within the cars between the terrified prisoners.

The message was always the same: "Don't be afraid", "We're here to help", "Take my arm". There was an order to the rescue: mothers with their children first, fathers next, young men and women followed – back and forth, as many as they could before their energy ran out. All too often, the elderly were left behind, begging that their children and grandchildren survive. The guards would get the shock of their lives when they reached their destination and opened the doors to find nearly empty boxcars.

Word would get back to Grindelwald and his men, that was certain, but so far, for the past two years, no one had been caught.

Landing in a decrepit barn on the outskirts of Bologne with the last of the prisoners, Elizabett pried the panicked grip of the women from her arm as she smiled and cast a quick Memory Charm. With the small child clutching her hand, the wife frantically searched the crowd for her husband, and with a relieved cry, embraced the approaching, thin man with desperation. Elizabett sighed as the small family clung to each other with relief.

"Tired?" Thomas asked as he crept up behind her and slipped his arm around Elizabett's waist.

She nodded, leaning onto his broad chest. "Yes, but, oh, so, worth it." She grinned looking up at her friend.

He gave her a quick squeeze and kissed the top of her head before letting go. "Another successful night." He registered her change of expression. "You're concerned for those left behind," he observed. Elizabett always had a soft spot for the elderly, but choices had to be made: the young and the families came first, always. Little did she know that a second team often went in to cast a merciful _Avada Kadavara_ on anyone who wished to end their life before reaching their destination. He figured that somewhere in her subconscious, she had to know, but chose to ignore that bit of information. They did what needed to be done. It was their little part for the war effort. "Come on. We're done here. I'll take you home." Thomas began to lead Elizabett from the crowd. The European Wizard Resistance would finish the job and relocate the Muggles in a safe place.

Bidding their colleagues "good-bye", Thomas and Elizabett exited the barn and headed across the field under Disillusionment Charms. Once at the edge of the cluster of trees, they released the charms, and Thomas turned to Elizabett for reassurance.

"You're okay to do this?" he asked.

"You worry too much," she smiled a tired smile. "I'll be fine."

"Howarts' gate?" Thomas confirmed with a brief nod.

"You know, you don't have to escort me home. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself," she bravely grinned.

"I know you can," Thomas reached out his hand to stroke her upper arm. "I'd just feel better knowing that you were home safely. Anything can happen, and I don't think I could bare that."

Elizabett took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his waist drawing him into an affectionate hug. "You worry too much," she declared again.

Thomas returned the hug and kissed her forehead. "Never," he replied, and with a "pop", they were gone.

Hogwarts' gate was securely sealed, and Elizabett hesitated before opening it.

"It's later than I anticipated," she worried looking up the snowy slope to the shining, tower windows. "I said I was going shopping for Catherine's birthday present. The shops would be closed at this hour."

"Would Albus really notice? Ever since that creature was caught, he's been back in the lab doing Merlin-knows-what," Thomas snorted in annoyance.

Elizabett tipped her head toward her friend. Thomas had never come to terms with Albus. He tolerated him, but sometimes, there was such an obvious dislike toward her husband. Elizabett knew that he was only being protective, and yes, there were times where she had to agree about Albus' neglectfulness, but still, she loved her husband and didn't like being deceitful…at least, not if it could be avoided.

Disarming a Concealment Charm, Elizabett pulled a package the size of a loaf of bread from beneath the low bows of the pine near the gate. Dusting it off, she smiled and tucked it under her arm. "I went shopping, remember?" Then, pulling a long, gold chain from around her neck, she exposed a small hourglass that had nestled between her breasts. "What do you think? One hour or two?" she asked.

"It's about eight o'clock," Thomas looked up at the low moon. "Better make it three. Dinnertime. Shops will just be closing, and maybe Albus will make it home for dinner tonight." Thomas snorted again. "I'm surprised that he's never noticed it missing." Thomas pointed to the Time-Turner.

"I always return it to the same hiding spot. I'm afraid he's not very creative, and it's been there for years," Elizabett explained with a dismissive shrug.

"And you've been using it for years," Thomas chuckled.

"Care to join me or are you about ready to turn in?" Elizabett offered with a smile, reaching the chain toward the tall man.

"As much as I'd love to turn in, Kalina will be wondering where I've been. Besides, I'd like to tuck Edvard in." A hint of a poignant smile flickered over his lips at the thought of his two-year old son. It had taken more time than Kalina wanted for her to become pregnant and much to her disappointment, Edvard showed no sign of magical talent. Many advised her to be patient as the boy was still very young. But, she became bitter, constantly comparing her child to Catherine.

Elizabett stepped close to Thomas, and he lowered his head as she slipped the thin, gold chain around both of their necks. Gazing at each other for a moment, Thomas held his breath slightly as she began to turn the hourglass backward. Time spun, and the evening became brighter. It had snowed lightly while they were gone, and a few teachers who had ventured into Hogsmeade for the afternoon were returning. When the dial stopped, the couple heard the chime of the five o'clock dinner bell. Elizabett lifted the chain from their necks and tucked it back under her jumper.

"You'll be here on Saturday, won't you?" Elizabett asked softly, feeling his closeness warm her.

"Of course," Thomas barely whispered as he leaned his head forward.

"Catherine loves to play with Edvard," Elizabett tipped her head to meet Thomas' eyes.

"Mmm, is there something particular she'd like for her birthday?" Thomas' voice was airy.

"She loves you. She'd love anything you bring," Elizabett quietly responded feeling a familiar quiver in her stomach.

"_She_ loves me," Thomas' eyes bore into Elizabett's, their noses nearly touching, breathe short, tempting her.

Elizabett unconciously licked her lips.

"Pansies and flowerpots! Did you ever see such a thing?" Professor Flaurance's voice echoed up the path and broke the spell that held Thomas and Elizabett in their place. They jumped at the sound and took a pace back.

"Never, but it certainly was worth the giggle," Bathilda joyfully answered. "Oh, good afternoon you two." She eyed the couple suspiciously. "Been out, have you?"

"Shopping for Catherine's birthday gift," Elizabett quickly held up the package that was under her arm. "It was good to see you again, Thomas," she nodded to her friend as he stepped away. "Don't forget. Two o'clock, Saturday afternoon."

"We'll be there," Thomas responded with a slight bow as he backed down the slope, finally turning with a backward wave of his hand.

"Handsome man," Professor Flaurance sighed as she watched Thomas leave.

"And married," Bathilda firmly added, "As are you," she sternly shook a gloved finger at Elizabett.

Elizabett's cheeks flushed again. Although it had never gone further, it was a dangerous game that she and Thomas played. A game she was finding more and more difficult to resist.

"Oh, Bathilda," Professor Flaurance innocently batted her hand at the older professor, "Elizabett and Thomas have been friends since childhood, and they were betrothed once. Of course, there will be tender feelings, but," she linked her elbow with the younger teacher and led her through the gate, "she loves Albus, and Albus loves her," she giggled girlishly. "They make such a fine couple, don't you think?"

Bathilda followed the pair up the snowy path to the Main Entrance unconvinced that it was merely friendship that she had seen.

"Uncle Horace! Uncle Horace! Look what Uncle Thomas brought me!" Catherine whizzed around the legs of the party guests who dodged out of her way.

"Ho ho! Look at that. A Clean Sweep Junior," the Potions professor smiled as the child zoomed back and forth across the living room. "Thomas," he called over the din of the crowd, "You did cast a safety spell on it, didn't you?"

Thomas waved to his old professor. "Of course. Why does everyone keep asking me that?" He rolled his eyes humorously.

"Because, they know your daring reputation and fear for Catherine's safety," Elizabett smiled as she ran her hand affectionately across the center of his back. He warmed at her touch.

"You know I'd never harm her," he lowered his voice for only her ears to hear.

Elizabett's lips twitched upward, and she gave a slight nod.

"Me twy," a young voice cried as a little boy in black trousers and a blue jumper stamped his foot impatiently. "Me twy!" he demanded more insistantly.

Catherine stopped the broom in front of her friend and dismounted, reluctantly but obligingly offering the child a turn. "Be careful," she warned as she helped Edvard straddle the stick. "Hold on tight."

The boy squealed with delight, and bounced around the room, the broom never gaining magical levetation.

The guests applauded and smiled at his childish display, but Kalina fumed in the corner. She hadn't wanted to come, and she didn't want Edvard there either. She was jealous of Thomas' friendship with Elizabett and resentful that Catherine got so much attention. Although no one boasted to her, she could feel it –Catherine was so bright, Catherine learn _Protego_, Catherine has such a generous soul, Catherine is such a charming child. Catherine, Catherine, Catherine. She was so tired of hearing about Catherine.

The glass in her hand shattered, and silence fell over the gathering. Blood began to drip from her cut fingers as Madam Prince and Thomas rushed to her aid.

"Goodness gracious," the mediwitch exclaimed to the stunned woman, "Are you all right?" She quickly cast a spell to determine the extent of the damage. "And here I thought I was going to have a night off," she laughed lightly as she magically knit the superficial wound together.

"It's just a cut," Kalina's voice was low and embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she addressed the group.

"Don't worry, Auntie Kalina," a concerned Catherine stood between Eileen and Edvard who still held the Clean Sweep between his knees. "That's easy to fix. _Reparo_," she pointed her finger at the broken glass on the floor, and it instantly became whole. "Mummy taught me that," she beamed proudly.

The group's silence continued, but the attention shifted from Kalina to Catherine's wandless demonstration to Elizabett and back. Kalina's cheeks turned scarlet, another "Catherine moment".

Elizabett felt her cheeks flush as well. She hadn't wanted her daughter's skills to be public. Shrugging sheepishly, she explained, "It was easier to teach it to her rather than constantly be called to fix broken toys. Cake anyone?" she diverted their attention to the kitchen and the beautifully decorated cake that Petite had made for her charge.

"Nice save," Albus whispered into his wife's ear as the guests moved into the other room.

Albus lay on his back trying hard to get back to sleep. His thoughts were reeling, and he was excited, but he didn't want to share the news just yet. It was two o'clock in the morning, and he could hear the raspy breathing of Elizabett beside him. She had been working hard lately and worn herself out catching a cold in the process. The Pepper Up Potion wasn't as effective as it should have been, either that, or her cold was much worse than she was letting on. She coughed deep and hoarse, and rolled onto her side.

He regretted the amount of time he had spent in the lab the past month, and his last trip to Nicholas' had taken longer than anticipated, but it was worth it. He had made a promise, and he intended to keep it. He was a man of his word; after all, he smiled proudly to himself.

Listening to the steady tick of the clock in the living room, he rolled onto his side and pulled the covers to his chin. It was no use. He sighed. Easing onto his back, he carefully folded the corner of the blanket back and slipped his legs over the edge of the bed. Standing, he covered his spot and tiptoed to the simple, wooden chair in the corner where his clothes lay neatly folded. Dressing as quietly as he could, he crept from the room, through the living room, and out the door. A few hours, he'd be back by the time they woke. After all, it was Christmas. He wouldn't miss it for anything.


	42. 42 Promises, Promises

**42 – Promise, Promises**

It was a perfect, winter's day. The sun shone brightly reflecting the ice crystals that floated in the air, making them shimmer and sparkle in the cold. The snow on the ground was thick and fluffy, not good for building snowmen, but perfect for making snow angels. Light flakes drifted on the air, but the domed ceiling of the Great Hall kept them from landing on the festive dinner table.

Eileen and Catherine darted between the immense and empty House tables playing with the few first and second year students who remained at the castle for the holiday. Their laughter echoed through the vast chamber.

Elizabett, Bathilda, Professor Flaurance, Professor Merrythought and Madam Prince chatted at the large, long table that had been beautifully decorated for the Christmas Tea. Professor Flaurance eagerly awaited Professor Kettleburn's arrival, and kept glancing toward the massive doors at the end of the chamber. They had an afternoon planned. Madam Prince was in a foul mood. Apparently, Mr. Prince had oddly disappeared during the night, and the mediwitch was none-to-pleased with the abandonment on Christmas day. As for the rest of the staff, they were expected to arrive soon.

Elizabett's morning hadn't gone as planned either, and she quietly fumed, while trying to present a happy and calm exterior.

~~~***~~~

The dream was somewhat erotic, and she breathed deep, smiling to herself as she rolled over, keeping her back to Albus' side of the bed. The dream wasn't about him, and although aroused, she felt ashamed to be dreaming of someone else. She loved her husband, but things were not living up to her expectations.

Catherine threw the bedroom door open with a bang and bounced onto the bed, her messy auburn curls knotted across her narrow shoulders, her pink flannel nightdress barely past her knees. A new one was wrapped under the tree. The dim light of dawn that was just peeking over the horizon could be seen struggling around the edges of the thick, living room curtains.

"Get up!" she demanded with a peel of laughter. "Get up, sleepyhead!" She began to tug the blanket from her dozy mother. "It's Christmas! There's presents! Get up!" she excitedly rolled off the bed and dashed back into the living room.

Elizabett could here the rustle of paper as the little girl dug through the packages under the tree. They had spent a full day last weekend decorating it, and it glowed with fairie lights and childish garland. Elizabett had cast a multitude of concealment spells to hide the gifts, and finally resorted to putting them in a closet in her classroom. "Catherine the Curious" had learned to bypass her wards. Albus hadn't done much. His attention had been diverted to the lab since the terror that seized Hogwarts for the first few months of the school year was over. Elizabett subconsciously flexed her jaw.

Returning to the bedroom, Catherine pounced back onto the bed and made a final tug at the blankets.

"Come on!" she insisted. "Where's Daddy?"

Elizabett's arm sleepily fell to her left, landing on an empty spot. Prying her eyes open, she mumbled, "Bathroom?"

Catherine rolled off the bed again and padded barefoot to the lavatory. "No, and he's not by the tree either."

Puzzled, Elizabett climbed out of bed, slipped on her slippers and bathrobe, and followed Catherine into the living room. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she scanned the room, both visually and empathically.

"Albus?" she called, "Albus, are you here?"

There was no answer, and Catherine clutched her mother's hand with disappointment and confusion.

"Does this mean we can't open presents?" her little chin began to quiver.

"We'll wait a little while. Maybe he's just stepped out for a moment. You know that sometimes Daddy leaves to take care of school business. Maybe one of the Gryffindors that stayed behind is not well or is home-sick." Elizabett made an excuse. "I'll make some hot chocolate and cinnamon toast. Would you like that?" She ushered the child into the kitchen. It was strange. She couldn't feel his presence anywhere.

A light "pop" signaled the arrival of Petite who greeted her Mistresses with a huge, toothy grin, and a cheery "Happy Christmas". Her customary pale pink apron had been replaced with a white one sporting a large, printed poinsettia on the front.

"Petite, you wouldn't happen to know where Professor Dumbledore is, would you?" Elizabett inquired as she took the bread from the cupboard.

"Master left early, when the sun is still down. He is being very quiet." Petite dutifully responded.

"Do you have any idea where he went?" Elizabett asked, her brows beginning to knit.

"No, but if Master is in the castle, Petite can find him." The tiny elf bobbed her head ready to disappear.

"No, that's all right,' Elizabett dismissed with a sigh. "I'm sure he'll be back soon.

~~~***~~~

That was several hours ago. Catherine had finally been permitted to open her stocking and a gift from Edvard (Thomas, in reality) and her grandparents, but Elizabett made her wait for the rest.

Now, it was early afternoon. Albus still had not made an appearance, and Elizabett was livid. When she heard that Mister Prince had also left during the night, she thought that they may have been called to the Ministry on some urgent matter, but he could have at least left a note.

Finally, the rest of the staff who resided at the school over the holiday joined the group, and the children gathered anxiously for the meal. As everyone settled into their places, the massive, oak doors at the entrance of the Great Hall swung open, and a tired, disheveled Albus rushed in, a look of great concern on his face.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I completely lost track of time," he apologized profusely.

Pausing as he reached the table, he glanced at the rest of the occupants who gazed up at him with equal concern. _What had pulled him away in the night?_ They wondered. "I have a good excuse," he grinned at Elizabett.

Holding a five-inch stack of parchments in his hands, he passed it to his wife who stood to take the proffered package. Her jaw angrily tightened. _Research? He was in the lab?_ She really didn't care about his research right now. He had neglected their daughter – on Christmas morning. How could he!

"Happy Christmas!" he chimed. "Open it," he instructed with boyish excitement.

Elizabett tugged the string that held the package together and pulled off the protective cover.

_The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood_

_By Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore_

_Assisted by Nicholas Flamel_

"What is it, Daddy?" Catherine had slid from her seat and tugged at the sleeve of her father's robe.

Albus smiled and bent to pick up his daughter. "Years ago, I made your mother a promise. It's taken a long time, but today, I'm making good on that promise."

"It's done?" Elizabett sputtered flipping through the pages.

"Final copy, bound, and ready for the Ministry as of now," he beamed with a flourish of his free hand, sliding his daughter from his hip to the floor.

"Oh, for pity's sake, will someone tell me what's going on?" the ancient, Professor Babbling demanded, fork in hand, and wanting to eat.

Elizabett didn't know what to say. She had lost hope that Albus would ever finish. He loved the research so much. Now, it appeared to be done. She held the package toward the group with a dumbfounded expression.

Curiosity got the better of Horace, and he was at her side in a flash looking at the papers in her hand.

"Nicholas Flamel?" he exclaimed loudly, his head jerking up at his friend. "You know Nicholas Flamel…and didn't tell me? How long has this been going on? The whole time you were working on this project?" His expression was one of shock and betrayal. Flipping through the pages, he continued, "Dragon's blood? Where on earth did you get dragon's blood?" He shook his head in disbelief.

"Well," Headmaster Dippet rose to shake Albus' hand. "It would appear that your years of hard work are finally done. Now, it's a matter of having it qualified by the Ministry for publication. Excellent job, Albus. Congratulations."

Albus grinned as the older man took his hand and gave it a firm shake. The others quickly gathered around to offer their support and congratulations as well, while Catherine, who had been standing at her father's side, was slowly pushed out of the way, lost in the legs and robes of her father's colleagues.

~~~***~~~

"You're still upset with me," Albus observed after Catherine had been snugly tucked into bed following the eventful day.

Elizabett had been quiet all evening, and now they settled into the living room by the fire with their tea.

All in all, it had been a roller coaster day; nothing had gone as planned, but she was trying to cope. Their traditional "opening the presents in their pajamas" had been waylaid by Albus' early morning disappearance, which had worried Elizabett. Then, when he finally showed up, she was angry to find that he had been in the lab but relieved and pleased that his research was finally done, meaning more time could be spent with the family. But then, she had been disappointed again when his attention was sidetracked by the numerous questions from Horace, Professor Merrythought, and the Headmaster, and the family was ignored as he regaled the years of work. Elizabett quickly saw her newfound family time slipping away.

Elizabett sunk into the cozy armchair by the hearth. "Not so much with you, really," she let out a defeated sigh. "I'm more upset with the situation. You spent years working on your research, years even before you and I met. I understand your passion and know how important it is to you. But, it took time away from us, our family. I often found myself alone and making excuses to Catherine for your absences. I shouldn't have had to do that. Now, just when I see hope of more time with you, I also see it slipping away with new responsibilities. You'll be spending more time at the Ministry which means time away from us again." Elizabett stopped for a moment. She knew she sounded like a whining, selfish child and hated it, but this needed to be said. "I know you love me, and I know you adore Catherine, but I often feel that we're not your priority. There are so many other things that demand your attention."

"Never." Albus was taken aback. "You and Catherine always come first."

"Really?" Elizabett leaned forward in her chair, ready to challenge. "What were you thinking when you left at two o'clock this morning?"

"I was excited and couldn't sleep. I wanted to finish the final draft, so that I could present it to you for Christmas." Albus defended, his hands grasping the armrests on either side of the chair.

"I understand, but did you think of how we would feel, how Catherine would feel when she woke on Christmas morning to find her father gone? That I would, once again, have to make an excuse so that she wouldn't be hurt. We waited, and you didn't return," Elizabett countered.

"I intended to, but I wanted to…" Albus began, his fingers twitching into the fabric of the chair.

"…finish your research," Elizabett finished, pursing her lips. "I understand why you did it, but it doesn't make the situation any better. All Catherine knew was that Daddy wasn't there on a special morning. She searched for you, and had to wait a long time to open her presents. You missed breakfast, too. That may sound petty, but she's a child, and it's Christmas." Elizabett's anger was rising. She had had quite enough of his neglectfulness toward the family. "And in the Great Hall, when you finally did showed up, did you pay your family attention beyond presenting me with the parchments or did you get diverted once again by the others?"

"I picked Catherine up, explained the promise I'd made to you. I think she's bright enough to understand. Besides, I was being polite. They were asking questions. What was I to do? Ignore them?" Albus' face was stony, and his fingers began to grip the armrests.

"When you put her down, did you notice your daughter being pushed aside? She was trying to stay with you, but couldn't, not with the others coming forth. She began to cry, because she wanted her father, and you ignored her!" Elizabett rose to her feet, the fire on the hearth doubling in size with her rage.

Albus shifted his gaze from his wife to the fire. He'd better choose his next words carefully. The power was with her.

"No, I hadn't noticed," he answered truthfully and sadly. "She was crying?" The regret was obvious in his voice.

Elizabett lowered herself back to her seat. "For the two hours that you talked with the others, she tried to get your attention. She wanted to come home, and you kept brushing her aside. Circe and Merlin, Albus, she's five. It's Christmas. She wanted her Daddy." Elizabett let out a deep sigh. She didn't want to fight, not today.

Albus stood and crossed the burgundy and gold carpet to kneel in front of his wife. Taking her small hands in his, he tenderly kissed the backs. "I know how blessed I am, and I know that I tend to get obsessive with my work. Even though I may not show it, you and Catherine _are_ my priority. All I do is for the two of you, so that we can have a better life."

Elizabett turned her hands in his so that they were clasped. "A better life would be one spent with my husband and our child, time spent together. Without that, we're merely friends sharing living quarters." Her warning was veiled, but if he gave it thought, he may recognize it.

Kissing the tips of her fingers, his blue eyes began to twinkle. "I'll make you a promise," he began, the corners of his lips turning upward with optimism. "From now on, I promise to have breakfast with both you and Catherine every day. And, I promise to be home to tuck her in at night, unless I'm on duty. I promise to spend at least one day each weekend devoted to the two of you. I promise…"

Elizabett raised her hand to stop him. "Don't make promises you can't keep," she warned shaking her head. "I know what's ahead with the Ministry, and I know that your school responsibilities are sometimes unpredictable. I don't expect you to spend every waking moment with us. You have a right to private time, as well. I just want a little more of you now that your research is over."

Albus nodded as he squeezed into the armchair with her, pulling her onto his lap. "Just how much more of me do you want?" he playfully quirked an eyebrow at her, the left corner of his mouth curling upward. "How about, I promise to be more attentive and try to be here more often."

"It's a start," Elizabett softened as she snuggled into his shoulder.


	43. 43 Schemes, Scams and Survival

**43 – Schemes, Scams, and Survival**

Gellert Grindelwald paced the wood floor of the study, his boot heels clicking with each step. The shot glass in his hand was the fourth he'd poured, but the Firewhiskey wasn't going down as easily as he had hoped. Gritting his teeth, he turned the glass between his fingers and launched it into the flames, spectacular orange and blue streaks shooting up the floo.

The Wizard Resistance, that blasted group of do-gooders, was somehow undermining his operation. He didn't know how, and if he didn't know better, he would have considered Elizabett of telling his secrets. They were that precise. But, he hadn't seen her since the fall, and their bond still seemed to be strong. He snorted derisively. She had struggled slightly, but he had managed to cast Legilimens on her seeing nothing than a trivial home life with, he snorted again, Albus Dumbledore – how dull. Her thoughts were full of students, her garden, and her daughter, a boring life at Hogwarts. However, one fleeting thought brought a smile to his lips, but she caught it before it went too far, closing it off, pulling back, and finally breaking his hold on her. It was one of Albus and her in bed, his beard tickling various parts of her lithe, little body. She smiled and squirmed under his touch. Gellert's hand reached for his groin, and he rubbed the bulge forcefully. She did have a nice body. No, it couldn't be her. It was probably some ambitious, over-achiever trying to play both sides, hoping to come out of this situation looking like a hero. Gellert grunted in disgust. Not if he found out who.

"Axius." He turned abruptly, regaining his focus. "I need another Veritaserum from your grandmother. There are a few individuals that need to be …questioned." His leer drew Axius to attention, and Grindelwald watched as his minion tipped his head in compliance. He liked Axius. He was a good man: obedient and faithful. "Sit… please." Gellert cordially motioned to Elizabett's usual chair. "I'd like to chat."

Axius' left eyebrow rose in question, but the tall, Mediterranian man did as he was told. It had been a long time since his friend had invited him to "chat". Grindelwald's influence had reached many, and there were those who ruthlessly sought their own advancement on the back of his master's deeds. Gellert had closed himself off these past few years, talking with no one, at least no one that Axius knew about.

"What do you make of this Wizard Resistance?" Grindelwald began casually, leaning comfortably into his chair, and watching his friend nervously shift in his seat.

"They seem to be intelligent, well-organized, and determined, and there seems to be a lot of them, mostly French from what I hear, but others from other countries assist them when needed." Axius kept eye contact with his host, but rubbed his sweaty palms on the thighs of his trousers.

"Do I make you nervous?" Grindelwald eyed his companion carefully, his lips twisting menacingly.

"You always make me nervous." Axius twitched an uneasy smile. "I'd be a fool if you didn't. After all, I'm French as well."

"True." Grindelwald's smile was genuine. "How refreshing. A honest man," he chuckled lightly. "Where do you think the Resistance is getting their information from?" He came back on track. "It seems far to coincidental not be the work of a spy."

"It could be. There are always those with ambition, and you have many followers placed within the Axis military: Germany, Italy, Hungary, Bulgaria, Albania, to name only a few. Yet, this war has extended far beyond the original interactions. It appears likely that they're getting their information from someone within the military, whether they are Wizard or Muggle: the targets that they choose, their precision. They know things not known to the public."

Grindelwald nodded slightly, elbows on the armrests of the large, leather chair, fingers at his lips, waiting for more.

"For example," Axius continued, "the train from Parma, Italy, the one that arrived with only the old and most of them were dead. No one but the German military and your forces knew of the attack on the Italian Jews that night. It was confirmed that the Killing Curse was used, and there was a strong residual effect from multiple Apparitions. Similar evidence has been found in other countries where the same thing, and more, has happened. However, it is also very possible that they are getting their information from the Muggles themselves. Many of the Muggle plans have grown from your original tactics."

Grindelwald listened carefully to the reasoning. Elizabett had made the same observation. Maybe it was true, but he had to be certain. It was time to gather his men, time to plan a ruse, to see what happens, to see who talks.

~~~***~~~

"I know they're making plans. My dad says so, and he works in the Department of International Wizard Co-Operation. He'd know," Eliza Dodge, a seventh-year Hufflepuff, clearly stated for the class, her set chin and red hair gave testament to the fiery spirit beneath the quiet exterior. "At the beginning of December, Britain and the United States met and made a deal with Russia. It was all hush-hush, but it had something to do with a plan to attack Germany and what's called the Axis countries."

"Strategically, it would make sense to get as many Allied countries together and synchronize their assault," a brave Gryffindor joined in. "If the Axis forces were to be attacked at the same time on the same day, they'd most certainly collapse."

Elizabett slowly strode up the aisle between the desks, hands behind her back, listening. "That's a sound idea," she praised thoughtfully, "but there's only one problem – there are far too many battles being fought. How could you synchronize multiple attacks on the same day at the same time? Who would fight so many battles? Are there enough soldiers?" Elizabett urged her students to think.

She had begun planting this seed before Christmas with new information she had received from Gellert in October. He had made mention of Germany's strongholds and arrogantly boasted of how his simple plan had grown beyond his imagination. So many European cities were now under Nazi control, and the Muggles were killing each other off in large amounts, in more creative and brutal ways than he had ever considered. He had laughed out loud. It was like watching a child with a new toy. However, he became angry and frustrated when the topic of the Resistance arose. They were foiling his plan, and he couldn't understand how they could know. To protect herself, and with feigned resistance, Elizabett had allowed him to use Legilimens on her, showing him a humdrum life of a teacher, mother, and wife. She had even permitted him a peek into the bedroom before slamming the door on his mind. It had to appear genuine, and he seemed satisfied. In reality, the Resistance had been using information from informants in various governments and military sources, both Wizard and Muggle. Over the years, she had reconnected with many people that she had met during her travels and exploration of the continent, before and after her affiliation with Gellert. _Her_ connections had grown as well, and she was putting them into play.

She smiled to herself before realizing she was still in front of her class. Clearing her throat, she continued, "So, what are the options?"

"Pick the most devastating battles and concentrate your forces on them," one Hufflepuff volunteered.

"Destroy the concentration and work camps to gain more fighting force," another added.

"Co-ordinate a series of attacks, freeing the occupied cities. Who better to fight than those who were oppressed? The people in the concentration and work camps won't be in any condition to fight. They'd be too weak," Simeon Potter confidently stated from under a shock of tousled, black hair.

Elizabett gazed at the young Gryffindor who's eager, dark brown eyes bore into hers. _Excellent_, she thought with a proud smile. This was something that she'd heard rumors of and hoped it would be done. If a student could think of such a plan, surely others would have done the same.

~~~***~~~

Thomas' body shook involuntarily, every muscle straining with each step. Grindelwald had shown no mercy. His search for Resistance supporters was unrelenting. Finding a few of his followers in lower ranks of the French and Italian military who had passed on information for a price, he moved to other possibilities: anyone who may have a motive for treason. But, the Veritaserum had run out, and there were still more to be questioned. Grindelwald was obsessive, manic, and _Crucio_ became the new truth serum.

Thomas had received the summons during dinner the Friday before Valentine's. Kalina had been annoyed to have her meal interrupted by a very bold falcon swooping into the house. It had frightened Edvard, which made her even angrier, not at the falcon, but at her young son for cowering and crying as the bird audaciously dove at the table, helping itself to their dinner. The note had been short, merely a date and time, but Thomas recognized the bird, and his stomach churned. He wouldn't have time to finish his meal. Grindelwald was insistent – he had less than an hour.

Rising, he made an excuse that he was urgently needed at the Ministry. Kissing Edvard on the top of his head and playfully tossing his son's hair with his right hand, Thomas waved "good-bye" to his fuming wife, making a quick exit to the hallway. He lifted his black, wool cloak from a hook by the front door, and deftly swung it over his shoulders, opening the door and striding into the night, not knowing what to expect, not able to formulate a plan. But, then again, that was Grindelwald's advantage – surprise and demanded obedience.

The alley in which he Apparated into was one he had used on many occasions. Years ago, when he first, stupidly, went to Grindelwald out of anger at Elizabett, he had been instructed that it was the best place, unseen from any of the neighbouring houses. Gathering the cloak tightly against the February chill, he lowered his head and stepped into the light of a street lamp. Glancing furtively across the cobbled road, he quickly stepped back into the shadow as he observed another man stumble from the front door of the decrepit, white and black manor. The man was older, maybe fifty, with scraggly, grey hair, a worn face, and tattered clothes. His legs wobbled, giving way, and he fell down the steps, landing hard on his hands and knees, blood oozing from his eyes and nose. Struggling to stand, the man appeared to take a deep breath, stood straight, and tipped his head to the heavens, as if saying a prayer. He may as well have been, for the front door opened a crack, and a flash of green light illuminated the overgrown yard. The man crumbled to the path and was immediately consumed by the bushes that seemed to come to life. No evidence was left for the next visitor to discern.

Thomas swallowed hard and closed his eyes against what was to come. He had heard about Grindelwald's search, but never thought that he would be suspect. Pushing all thoughts of anything dear from his mind, he planted memories of his work with Goblins on the surface, as if that was his only focus in life. Stepping from the curb, he drew his shoulders back, held his head high, and strode up the unkempt path to the chip painted, front door. Knocking twice, the door eased open, and Thomas stepped in.

His visit was longer in comparison to the other times, but he was quite certain that he had managed to stay focused, even with the excruciating pain. He couldn't jeopardize the Resistance, and he would give his life before revealing his true feelings for Elizabett and Catherine. Every time Grindelwald asked about his trips abroad, Thomas would center his thoughts on meetings with Goblin silversmiths and business conferences. It was all he could do to hold himself together. At one point, Grindelwald had taken a short break, turning to the fire, and Thomas took the moment to breath. But, his nemesis' wand was quick to return to the interrogation.

Finally, with Thomas laying in a curled heap on the elegant black and burgundy rug gasping for breath, Grindelwald eased himself into his favourite chair staring thoughtfully at the younger man. His victim's thick, black hair was matted with sweat sticking to the sides of his stubbled face. His emerald green eyes bore at him with obvious confusion and anger. He had fully denied knowing anything about the Resistance, and ultimately, Grindelwald believed him, dismissing Thomas with a twisted smirk and flip of his hand, making a cruel, parting comment, "I didn't really think it could be you anyway." All of this had been for his entertainment.

Thomas collapsed onto the tattered, four-poster bed in the top-most bedroom of the ramshackle castle. Its isolation on the crest of a cliff that overlooked a deep valley was a perfect place to recover, and he had used it frequently since Elizabett had first brought him there. It was close enough to Hungary that he could manage the Apparation even with depleted strength, and it was protected by ancient enchantments that curiously allowed him access. It had obviously been one of Elizabett's resting places when she travelled Europe as an adventurous, young woman for there were remnants of food stores and the odd article of clothing left behind.

Now, they occasionally met in the cold chamber prior to a Resistance assault to focus their attention on what needed to be done. Elizabett claimed that it was a place where she felt most secure, that the energy was strong, special. The oriel, a bay-shaped protrusion that would become the popular bay window of the future, faced west, the proper direction to invoke the guardians for protection. Who was he to argue? He, too, felt comfortable there, whether it be the room, the oriel, or the company.

Laying in the darkness, he struggled to breath. Every nerve was on fire. Every sound echoed in his skull. Even the resonance of his own heart beating sent a painful vibration through his body. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, sinking into the softness of the ancient, feather bed.

~~~***~~~

The decibel level in the Great Hall the night prior of the Valentine's Dance was deafening. Excitement was in the air, and a multitude of plans were being made for the following day in Hogsmeade.

Albus had made a grand gesture earlier in the week, and Catherine had been whisked off to spend the weekend with her grandparents. He had planned a romantic Valentine's with his wife, which included tickets to the University of Edinburgh's special concert and dinner at MacBeth's in Nicholson's Square. Elizabett had been pleased with his attempts at keeping his Christmas promise. During January, he had breakfast with his family every morning, and spent more time with her and Catherine in the evenings. He had made his required trips to the Ministry regarding his research, and all had gone well, but lately, it was the Department of International Wizard Co-Operation that was demanding his attention. Grindelwald was on the move again, and aggressions were rising. His diplomatic skills were needed.

Tonight was one of those disappointing nights. With Catherine away, and plans made for the weekend, Albus had received an urgent message from the Ministry. Something dire had occurred that needed his immediate attention. Albus had apologized profusely while rushing through their quarters gathering odd items that he would need. He instructed her not to wait up, that it might take a while. Elizabett dismissed him with an understanding peck on the cheek, but worried as to what the situation could be. She had been keeping abreast of the growing hostilities in Europe, both Wizard and Muggle, and knew that Gellert was fuming about something, but what?

Solitarily joining the other staff members at the High Table, she chatted amiably with Professor Merrythought and Professor Flaurance. They, too, were concerned with Albus' quick departure and felt sorry of the abandoned Elizabett, inviting her to join them for tea in the staff lounge after dinner. She declined; however, thinking that a few hours alone may be just the thing she needed that night – a hot bath and a good book.

But, as dinner came to an end, a sharp pain radiate across her chest and up her spine to the base of her skull. It took her breath away, and she dropped her fork onto the table, drawing a scowl from Professor Babbling. Pacing her hands into her lap and lowering her head in an attempt to quell the sensation, she took a slow breath and picked the fork up again. It never made it to her mouth. With a sharp gasp, she choked, dropping it onto her plate with a clatter, a profound impression spilling through her body that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

"Are you all right, dear?" Professor Merrythought leaned toward her with concern, his hand reaching to touch her wrist.

She unconsciously pulled away to avoid the touch, fire burning through her veins. "Indigestion, I think," she made an excuse, placing her hand on her chest. "I think I have something for it in my quarters," she said while rising from her seat to begin the descent down the stairs behind the teachers' table.

Several heads turned in her direction as she left, and she raised a hand in a feeble wave to Bathilda: a gesture indicating that she'd be fine.

A number of students had already finished their meal and were heading back to their Common Rooms when Elizabett made her way to the Entrance Hall. Her energies were scattered, and she felt confused and disoriented, not knowing what to do or where to go. Taking a few steps toward the corridor that led to her quarters, she hesitated, an unseen force seemingly stopping her from going any further. Feeling very uncomfortable, she turned to head up the stairs to the Hospital wing, but before she got too far, the staircase shifted, and she ended up right back where she started – in the Entrance Hall. A sudden flood of panic flowed through her, and she closed her eyes trying to focus on the origin of the sensation. It was pure impulse, trance-like, but pushed her into action. Striding to the enormous, oak doors that led to the sweeping, stone steps in front of the school, Elizabett reached for the heavy, iron handles and gave a mighty tug. The doors opened, and a blast of winter penetrated to her soul. _Go! _The sensation was adamant_._ Stepping into the bitter, Scottish night, Elizabett felt the urgent impression surge. Dressed only in her daily work robe and simple boots, she acted on the impulse. Gathering her skirt, she dashed down the steps toward the path that led to Hogsmeade, not feeling the ice beneath her feet, or the cold air that turned her cheeks red. All she could feel was the absolute gut feeling that something was dreadfully wrong, and she had to help.

Reaching the boundary gate, she swung it open and stepped onto the unenchanted side. Tipping her head to the clouded, waning moon, and spreading her arms to the sides, she closed her eyes and clearly stated, "Take me."

A white, shimmering aura instantly formed around her, and she was lifted slightly off the frosty ground. And without the crack of standard Apparition, she silently vanished into the darkness, dissolving into nothingness.

"What, up Merlin's sleeve, was that?" Claudius Crabbe puffed as his racing form hit the opposite side of Hogwarts' iron gate.

"I don't know," Tom pensively stated as his came to a rapid halt beside his classmate, staring at the residual glimmer in the air.

They had seen Professor Castlewood's strange behaviour at dinner and chose to follow when she left the Great Hall, but never had they expected this. Tom's eyes were wide, fascinated. He'd never seen anything like it before. He would want answers. It was unique, and he wanted to learn how to do it.

~~~***~~~

She was plunged into utter darkness, so dark that her eyes had nothing to adjust to: no stars, no moonlight, no flicker of a distant torch. She was blind.

Standing stock-still, she held her breath, listening, reaching out with her senses, trying to determine where she was. The air was damp, musty, but she could feel solid stone beneath her feet. There was an odd feeling of familiarity, but she didn't understand why she had been brought to such a place. Then, she heard it, a low moan, not far away.

"Who's there?" she whispered into the darkness, frozen in her spot, her right hand tightly gripping the wand in her robe pocket.

The groan sounded again, this time accompanied by a strained cough.

"I know nothing," the voice slurred. "Do what you will. It will do no good."

"Albus? Albus, is that you? Gods, what's happened?" In a panic, Elizabett drew her wand and cast _Lumos_, the light bringing forth a pained cry from the man on the bed.

"Off. Off," he hoarsely whispered, shielding his face from the beam, and struggling to roll onto his side, away from the glow.

Elizabett quickly recognized the room and dimmed the wand-light. "Thomas?" Her shock was evident as she rushed to the bedside, instinctively flicking her wand toward the fireplace on the far wall to start a low blaze to warm the now-familiar room. "Thomas, what happened?" She stooped beside him placing her cool hand on his burning forehead, but withdrew it quickly as the pain shot through her arm.

He groaned at her touch, rolling back into the softness of the bed.

"_Crucio_," he wheezed. "Our "friend" was curious about the Resistance." His voice could barely be heard, and Elizabett leaned closer to listen. Thomas chuckled but gasped as his lungs fought the strain. Bending at the elbow to weakly touch her shoulder, he fingered her sleeve tenderly, whispering, "He knows nothing from me," as he drifted into unconsciousness.


	44. 44 Of Dark Nights and Faithful Hearts

**44 – Of Dark Nights and Faithful Hearts**

The long, splayed window on the outer wall that overlooked the chasm did nothing to let in the weak, winter moon. The oriel was shuttered against the elements rising from the dark valley, leaving the slivered angle of the splay as the only possible source of outside light. But clouds, heavy with the promise of more snow, obscured the waning half moon making the only illumination that of the low fire that crackled warmly on the grate.

Time passed endlessly, and Elizabett transfigured the derelict wing chair before the flames into something much more comfortable. She had tended to Thomas' injuries as best as she could, placing her hand on his chest and drawing his pain onto herself until she could bare no more. Finally, the tortured man began to relax sensing the comforting touch of a concerned hand. His eyes fluttered open once reassuring her that he was still alive, and she had brushed the sticky strands of black hair from his forehead, tenderly running her fingertips over his stubbled cheek. _What had happened? Who would do such a thing to Thomas?_ But, she knew in her heart who was to blame. Thomas had told her, years ago, about his angry, misguided, stupid desire for revenge, and as furious as it had made her, his sincerity to make it right and vow to protect her and Catherine, led her to forgive him. Her lips twitched upward slightly. He had looked so pitiful, so remorseful. He wore his regret openly. What else could she do?

Now, she curled up on the newly transfigured lounge, waiting, tired eyes staring into the flickering yellow-white flames. His breathing had evened, but he was so weak. There was no way that she would leave him.

~~~***~~~

"Mr. Dumbledore, Mr. Prince. Welcome back to Berlin." the middle aged, balding man with round, wire-rim glasses reached his right hand in greeting to the two wizards, ushering them into his tiny, makeshift office.

Mr. Prince was the first to take Friedrich Olbricht's hand. "It's always a pleasure to see you, Friedrich," he greeted with a broad smile. "Our meeting at Christmas seems to have been successful despite the incarceration of your esteemed colleague, Major General Oster. Such a shame. I take it the plan is still progressing well, though?"

"Indeed," the German General tipped his head efficiently and waved the men to the stiff, wooden office chairs before a simple, steel-topped desk.

As their host took his place behind the table, Albus leisurely glanced around the room. It had been a while since his last visit, and nothing had changed. The only furnishings were the desk, three chairs, and a two-drawer, gray metal file cabinet in the far corner. The room, itself, was a small, subterranean chamber, no more than nine by nine feet, in an abandoned warehouse on the west side of Berlin. The rubble above gave the illusion of a bombed-out factory, and there was little in the building to indicate that this wasn't fact. The single steel door that led into the chamber was unassuming, dented and chipped, blending well with the uniformity of bland non-color. The floor was a solid slab of cement painted battleship gray, and the rough, cinder-block foundation that formed the walls was badly cracked in places. Albus doubted that it would withstand the upcoming offensive from the Allies that was expected to begin within the next few days. A few charms here and there would be wise.

"How is Herr Oster doing?" Mr. Prince began as he settled into the seat. "Have you been able to see him?"

"I'm afraid not," Olbricht answered as he leaned back into the hard chair, his elbows resting on the side arms. "He's under house arrest after the incident with the Gestapo before the New Year. Been stripped of rank and position. The man's heart is in the right place, but of all people," he shook his head despondently, "he should have stuck to the plan. Getting caught was not an option. And, I fear that it was Grindelwald's men who trapped him. I recognized a magical signature that has appeared several times before."

"Could we not simply Apparate him out, or possibly, yourself in?" Mr. Prince suggested. "Granted, he is a Muggle, but we do have Memory Charms. It would be a waste to lose a talent such as his."

Major General Oster had worked diligently the past few years to brilliantly modify the Reserve Army's strategic plan, placing all of the German Resistance fighters in the places of power, half of whom were wizards. The list was long, and if carried out according to plan, it would ensure the success of the Rastenburg Assassination Plot and the eventual overthrow of the country's military rule, bringing Germany back to the hands of true Germans who cared about the country and _all_ of its people.

Olbricht nodded pensively. "I agree," he stated. "Herr Oster is the best strategic planner I've ever seen. It was his brilliance that successfully modified Operation Valkyrie to our favor. However, for me to visit or to Apparate him out would draw far too much attention to the operation, and I must to confess, Memory Charms are not my forte. I'm afraid poor Herr Hess suffered terribly with my last attempt. Another brave man with a good idea. Both men believed in Germany, and both were distraught at the thought of it being ravaged by war." He shook his head at the thought. "Now, look what's going to happen. The Allies plan to attack next week, and that will destroy the land we love so much. It would have been better for us to strike an alliance with Britain when we had the chance. When Herr Hess met you in Scotland a few years ago," he motioned to Albus, "it was a fluke; one I'm very pleased to see has worked to our benefit. But, the things he saw before he was arrested… the European Federation of Wizards could not allow him to remember, and my lack of skill was to his detriment. I wouldn't dare take the same risk with Oster."

"Of course," Mr. Prince acknowledged. He held hope that these men's passion for doing the right thing still ran through the veins of the operation.

"What about the new manifesto? Has it been delivered yet?" Albus quietly asked.

Olbricht's smile twisted upward at the two visitors. "Colonel von Stauffenberg had no problem presenting the new documentation to the Fuhrer." He chuckled lightly. "Claus was quite proud of his success in casting a Confundus Charm on Herr Hitler right in the presence of his inner circle. According to Claus' report, Hitler didn't even give the document a cursory glance before signing it and handing it back to him." The German General huffed with pleasure. "Now, it's simply a matter of finding the right moment to strike. Soon, I hope."

"This is excellent news." Mr. Prince beamed. "Our Ministry will be pleased to hear it."

"As successful as it has been so far, we must not be overconfident," Albus cautioned wisely. "We are dealing with Muggles. They can be unpredictable. And, we don't know how many officials and soldiers are under Grindelwald's command – either Muggle and Wizard."

Olbricht nodded pensively. "I understand your vigilance. True, we have already identified a number of Muggle officers under _Imperio, _as well as several of Grindelwald followers in the upper echelon, none of whom are involved in this operation, and all of whom are under our watchful eye," he assured tapping the fingers of his right hand to his lips.

Albus rested his hands in his lap lacing the fingers together, not completely comfortable of his colleague's confidence. He and Mr. Prince had been working with the European Federation of Wizards for a long time. He knew Gellert Grindelwald personally, although that piece of information was tucked firmly and secretly away. He had been investigating Wizard disturbances in Muggle society since before the war broke out and suspected the depth of Grindelwald's infiltration was great. Something was needed to rock the man's boat, so to speak. Maybe an assault close to home would shake him from hiding. Although, Albus was quite certain Gellert was still operating from Hungary, he didn't know exactly where. But, this gave him something else to think about.

No, he would not rest comfortably until it was all over.

~~~***~~~

A low groan startled Elizabett from her dozing state, making her nauseous with the abrupt movement. Focusing her weary eyes, she struggled to her feet and stumbled toward the bed. Thomas tossed and mumbled, perspiration beading on his forehead and trickling down his temples. Elizabett placed her hand on his upper arm, and his eyes frantically shot open, pupils like narrow pin dots set in a sea of green. He gasped and fought to sit up.

"It's alright." Elizabett held her hands to his shoulders willing him to lie back down. "You're safe. You're in Gavarnie. I'm right here. Thomas, can you hear me?" She spoke softly and reassuringly.

He blinked rapidly coming into full consciousness, and gazed about the room. "What time is it?" he uttered with a graveled voice.

"I'm not sure," Elizabett answered as she perched on the edge of the tall bed. "Late. Or early morning."

"Why are you here?" he mumbled, carefully easing back into the feather pillows.

"Now, that's gratitude." Elizabett made light of the comment, her lips twitching up at the corners. "Don't you want me here?"

Thomas reached for her hand and drew it to his chest. "I'm very grateful that you're here. I just don't understand how you knew _I'd_ be here."

"I didn't," she explained. "My dinner was quite rudely interrupted," she grinned.

Pushing further onto the edge of the bed so not to fall off, while Thomas lightly stroked her fingers, she told the story of the odd sensation she had received during dinner that evening, and her undignified flight from the school grounds. She chuckled hoping that no one had seen her leave in such a state, for if they had, they would surely have thought she'd gone mad. She described her arrival at the castle in Gavarnie, but eliminated the fact that she assumed it was Albus in danger. She didn't think that little bit of information would do him any good to know.

"You used to be able to follow me when we were children, even when we got older." She smiled warmly at her friend, entwining her fingers with his. "You said that I left a specific magical signature that only you could sense. Well, I could always sense when someone close to me was in danger or needed help." She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Thomas closed his eyes for a moment but continued to stroke the back of her fingers. After a few seconds, he decided that it was his turn. Thomas' throat constricted as he fought to speak, but he relayed his story of receiving the summons by falcon, of his rapid departure and Kalina's displeasure, and of witnessing the other man's public execution in the front yard. He was confused at first. Such a display was uncharacteristic of the secretive Grindelwald, but upon reflection, he thought how effective it was – or could have been – for anyone who was waiting their turn for interrogation. How many had already been consumed by those bushes? Thomas suddenly thanked the deities that he had not been one of them.

As they spoke, Elizabett's eyes watered. Yawning, she struggled to keep them open.

Thomas tugged her to him. "The bed is soft, Lizzie, and you're exhausted," his voice was warm and inviting. "You need some sleep." He stretched his left arm to the side and pulled down the edge of the covers. "I promise to behave." His smile was weak, but playful.

Elizabett hesitated a moment, then rose, pulling the quilt up to cover Thomas' chest, and silently kissing him on the forehead. He gazed up at her like a little boy being lovingly tucked in. Turning to face the fire as a log split and stuttered, she took a few wobbly steps to the end of the bed, grasping hold of the post to steady herself. Then, turning left, she went up the other side. Gathering her skirt, she rose on her tiptoes and slipped her backside onto the edge of the mattress, carefully reaching forward, and untying the laces on her boots, kicking them off. Lifting the quilt, she pulled her legs under the covers and slid into the bed beside her friend. Turning to face each other, they smiled wearily, and her eyes slowly closed, exhaustion finally taking over. Thomas lay there for several seconds watching her. Even in her disheveled state, she was beautiful. Her face, which had been creased with worry, now relaxed, and her lips parted slightly as sleep took over. Her sunlit brown hair fought a losing battle to remain clipped in the low bun at the base of her neck, tendrils and wisps tickling her heart-shaped face. He reached to tenderly brush the strands away and lift the quilt to her shoulder. Leaning forward, he gently placed an affectionate kiss on her soft cheek.

"I love you, Lizzie," he whispered into her skin before rolling onto his back, allowing sleep to overcome him again while a faint pink aura curtained the four-poster bed to keep the couple safe.

~~~***~~~

Hogsmeade was bustling with Valentine enthusiasm. The Sweet Shoppe overflowed with Candy Kisses that puckered your lips and heart-shaped candy floss. Madam Puddifoot's was decked in its Valentine's finest of pink and red hearts and cherubs with their bows drawn, awaiting the first lovers of the day. There was already a line of students waiting to enter for lunch.

_Was it really that late?_

Elizabett had woken with the morning sun beaming through the oriel. Thomas had risen some time earlier but was unwilling to disturb her peaceful slumber. However, the need to return home had prevailed over his desire to continue watching her, and he had quietly opened the shutters of the oriel letting the cool mountain air and hazy sunlight gently wake her. She stirred and rolled over, curling into herself and pulling the quilt to her chin, reluctant to be disturbed.

Approaching the bed, he sat of the edge by her waist. "It's time," he had spoken softly, giving the quilt a playful tug. It was a simple yet clear statement, but one that was understood.

As he rose, she flipped the cover back and swung her legs over the edge, sitting up and wiping the sleep from her eyes. Her feet dangled, not reaching the floor, and she _Accio_'d her boots to put them on. He watched from across the room as she stood and transfigured her navy blue robe from the night before into a garnet-colored one with a high, cream collar, slim sleeves, and fitted bodice. _It was Valentine's, after all,_ she had smiled to herself, and Thomas' wide eyes and crooked smile gave her the impression that he approved of her choice, although he said nothing.

Meeting him in the middle of the chamber, he had taken her hands in his and tenderly kissed the backs, thanking her for her kindness and compassion, and for being there for him when he needed her. She could feel her heart pound, not wanting the moment to end, but knowing it must. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached to kiss his cheek and replied, "How could I not?"

Stepping apart, they bid each other "good bye" and Disapparated to their separate destinations. Thomas would go home, and have to explain his absence to Kalina who was growing more and more difficult with each passing day, while Elizabett would Apparate to Hogsmeade and get lost in the multitude of students who would descend upon the magical village for the day.

~~~***~~~

As anticipated, the crowd was thick, and she worked her way from the back alley near the Hogs Head Inn toward the path that led back to the school.

"There you are?" A voice cut across the throng and startled her as she emerged onto the main street.

Her head spun, and her heart leapt into her throat.

"I thought I might find you here." Albus smiled as he approached his wife still wearing the clothes he had left in the night before. "I warned you it might take a while," he said as he took her hands in his and leaned to kiss Elizabett's cheek. "I hope you had a peaceful night. Did you sleep well? I haven't forgotten our plans for this evening. I'll need to clean up and take a nap first, but I am looking forward to MacBeth's haggis, and the concert should be a good one," he rattled as he took her arm in the crook of his and walked up the path with her.

"Is everything all right?" she asked conversationally but curious to know what he had been up to. "The message was urgent."

"Oh, yes. Fine." He gave her hand a squeeze and smiled innocently. "Nothing for you to worry about."

He knew that she kept abreast of the situation in Europe often using the incidents as examples in her classes, but he tried with all his might to keep the reality of war away from his family. There was no need for her to be concerned about such things. He would always protect her.

As they reached the boundary gate, they stopped on the snowy path and gazed at each other for a moment. Then, wrapping her arms around his waist, she drew him into a crushing embrace.

"I love you, Albus," she whispered into his cloak, the sting of tears welling in her eyes, her throat constricting, the memory of the night before fresh in her mind.

"I love you, too, my dear." He obliviously returned her hug. "It seems like we could both use a nap."


	45. 45 Striking At The Heart Of The Dragon

**45 – Striking At the Heart Of The Dragon**

"How dare they! How _dare_ they!" Grindelwald raged as German tanks rolled up his quiet street on the outskirts of Budapest, troops pompously marching behind.

Allied forced had begun their massive assault on Germany shortly after Valentine's Day, but he had never imagine that the response would be one of reverse tactics. Instead of immediately fighting back, defending their country, the Germans retreated into familiar territory. There had been no warning, no reason for the take-over of Hungary other than comfort and convenience. Up until now, they had been allies.

_It has to be Wizard-based._ Grindelwald cursed his own kind, taking the occupation as a personal attack. _But, how had they convinced the Fuhrer_.

His own people were in the inner circle. No one had informed him of this. And, at this moment, he wouldn't give the Muggles credit for thinking it up for themselves. They couldn't be as ruthlessly as him. They were far too stupid.

Roaring with anger, he brandished his wand at the curio cabinet on the far side of the study, shattering it and its contents, sending shards of glass flying in all directions. Standing motionless and breathing heavily through gritted teeth, he watched as the tiny, glittering pieces fell to the floor like flakes of snow on a crystal clear day.

"Damn," he thought as the last of the debris landed on the dark carpet. The little porcelain ornaments had belonged to his mother, and all had been made in Hungary, some more than a hundred years ago. He really was quite fond of them. With another forceful swirl of the wand and a muttered _"Reparo", _he restored the destroyed cabinet and all of its knick-knacks.

The house shook again, and the windows rattled as another row of tanks passed, the sound of marching feet adding to Grindelwald's aggravation. He balled his fists and seethed. _Whoever was responsible for this would pay_.

~~~***~~~

"Look Daddy. Mommy bought it in Diagon Alley. Do you like it?" Catherine whirled in the middle of the living room, the skirt of her new, pink robe lifting several inches off the polished, oak floor.

Albus placed the _Daily Prophet_ on his lap and gazed up from the depths of his favourite armchair.

"Very pretty," he praised. "What's the occasion?" He glanced up at Elizabett who stood in their daughter's bedroom doorway watching.

Elizabett rolled her eyes. "She's only been talking about it for a month. Edvard's third birthday is this weekend. We're going to Thomas and Kalina's for the party."

"Oh, yes. Of course," he smiled as he pulled his daughter onto his lap, finding her ticklish spot.

Catherine's giggle turned into a delightful peel of laughter as she struggled in her father's arms. Rolling off of his lap and knocking the paper onto the floor, she dashed passed her mother and back into the bedroom to carefully put the party dress away.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Elizabett leaned against the doorframe, her arms folded loosely across her chest. Afterall, he had forgotten their anniversary this week, as well.

"Of course not," Albus sounded affronted, not wanting to be caught a second time.

"You forgot, didn't you?" Elizabett repeated, exasperation clouding her serene face.

At this, Albus had the decency to look guilty. "This Saturday?" he quietly asked looking over his glasses. There was an important meeting in Berlin planned for Saturday, and Mr. Prince had asked him to go along.

"Yes, this Saturday," his wife confirmed.

Albus sighed, picking the newspaper from the floor and rereading the headline – _Knocking At Grindelwald's Door. _He watched as the tanks silently roll down an unknown street in Hungary as children solemnly looked on. He wondered how Gellert was reacting to this invasion into home territory. It was something that Olbricht had cleverly put together with Albus' help after their last meeting. And now, with the Allies about to begin Operation Overlord, the German Resistance was supposed to be implementing phase two of Operation Valkyre. He had to be there.

Folding the paper and placing it on the small side table by the chair, he stood to meet her in the archway. Stopping within a breath's distance, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and his lips twitched sheepishly giving the fifty-plus man a definite boyish appearance. He would figure something out.

"Barring any emergencies, I'll be there," he promised. "I rather like Thomas." He aimed to divert her attention. "He's a good man, but I feel that poor little Edvard is the recipient of Kalina's disappointments." His brow furrowed at a distant memory. He had been the one to covertly arrange Kalina's transfer within the Ministry, years ago, that enabled Kalina and Thomas to meet, giving him the opportunity to pursue Elizabett. However, he often regretted that decision. Not for the fact that he had succeeded in marrying Elizabett and producing a beautiful and potentially powerful daughter, but at the eventual realization that Kalina's adolescent manner hid her unpleasant, manipulative qualities. Now, as she grew more frustrated with her personal situation, she took it out on Thomas and the boy.

Elizabett nodded. "Edvard is so young, and she expects so much from him." She shook her head sadly. "Apparently, he's not shown any magical talent yet, and she criticizes him constantly. Thomas has been taking him to his parents' to give Kalina and the boy a break. He says that she barely acknowledges him anymore except to condemn him."

"It's sad when a parent shuns their own child," Albus quietly observed. "It is possible that Edvard is a Squib, although he should be given the opportunity to develop. I fear that she is suppressing that opportunity."

Elizabett nodded again. Her heart went out to the little boy. He was so sweet and tried so hard, and Kalina had no use for him. It was sad.

~~~***~~~

Thomas and Kalina's home was certainly more extravagant than Albus and Elizabett's cozy, little apartment at the school. The two-story, white-grey Tudor with heavy, wooden timbers, and bottle green trim sat nestled in a somewhat neglected yard on the outskirts of Canterbury, southeast of London. Flower boxes on the front windowsills were devoid of colour in the late March sunshine, but the ratty vestiges of last summer's foliage remained, making the front look unkempt and messy. It seemed that Kalina's attempts at gardening had failed; either that or she had simply lost her motivation.

Albus and Elizabett, with Catherine dancing along between them, strode up the cobbled path to the single, dark wood, front door and knocked. After a moment, Merrick and Maude, Thomas' parents, answered and ushered the family into a small, cream-coloured entryway. Affectionate hugs were given as coats were taken, and Catherine quickly broke away from the adults at the sight of a dozen charmed, powder blue and white Pygmy Puffs purring from colourful ribbons floating from the living room ceiling.

As they entered, Elizabett glanced around the open living area. They had only been to the house a few times, and the décor was always a surprise. Thomas had done well for himself, but she knew that Kalina had been given free reign in the decorating. Elizabett sighed inwardly. Thomas' tastes did _not_ lean toward garish. The simple beige living room was reasonably large but was accented with bright, girlish colours and kitschy furnishings that clashed with classic attempts at maturity. To the left and slightly forward, a gaudy, lime-green, plaster-crafted archway sectioned off the main room from the smaller, pale yellow dining area which opened to a bright yellow kitchen where a harried little house elf busied himself preparing snacks. To the right of the entryway, a beautifully polished, walnut staircase and banister, boasting small bouquets of dried flowers at every second wrung, led to the top floor where four bedrooms and a huge lavatory where housed. All in all, the house had great potential if not for the efforts of the decorator.

As Maude took Elizabett's elbow to escort her into the main room, she discretely leaned to whisper, "Watch yourself. Kalina is in one of her moods. I swear that girl is losing her mind. Certainly not the person Thomas married," she tsked, shaking her greying head.

"People change," Elizabett cordially responded feeling a pang not only for the older woman, but for Thomas as well. "How is Edvard doing?" She forced a smile and searched the crowd for the party-boy.

Edvard, in his navy blue trousers and navy and white jumper, a shock of jet black hair slicked back from his face, sat on the floor in the centre of the living room surrounded by a few friends when he saw them come in.

"Auntie Lizzie! Auntie Lizzie!" he squealed, scrambling to his feet, and running across the room to throw himself into Elizabett's arms.

She bent down to lovingly scoop the boy into the air, giving him an adoring squeeze, when Kalina and Thomas entered from the kitchen. Kalina was dabbing her eyes, pink-faced, and looking miffed, while Thomas simply looked like he'd had enough. Upon seeing the new arrivals, Kalina quickly and firmly ordered Edvard to get down and curtly welcomed the guests. Thomas rolled his eyes and strode over to the couple, his hand outstretch.

"Glad you could make it." His smile was strained. "Sorry about that." He tipped his head toward his wife, then quietly directed toward his friends, "She's getting worse. I don't know what to do."

It was Albus who amiably clapped Thomas on the shoulder and steered him toward his parents and other guests. "You're going to enjoy your son's birthday. That's what you're going to do," he half ordered as the younger man settled into a poufy, uncomfortable-looking chair.

Kalina hovered in the background, sullenly watching the proceeding, and not making any effort to be a gracious hostess. Maude later relayed to some of the female guests that she hadn't even wanted to throw her son a party, that it had been Thomas with her help. She "tsked" again, "How could a mother behave in such a way?"

The afternoon passed uneasily, the children oblivious to the tension amongst the adults. About halfway through, a brown speckled barn owl arrived with an urgent message for Albus who regretfully departed, offering his apologies to all, especially Elizabett. He would try to make up to her later.

After the gifts were opened, Thomas ushered the guests into the dining area and presented a beautifully decorated cake for Edvard to make the first cut. The boy excitedly stood on the padded, maple chair, and with his father's hand over his, they sliced into the chocolate frosting. A birthday cheer rose from the crowd, and once the children were served, the adults gathered around the table with tea and cake, listening to the joyful laughter of the little ones and amusedly watching as the table quickly became littered. The odd pumpkin juice was spilled, to which the respective parent quickly flicked a wand to clean it up, but when Edvard accidentally knocked a piece of cake onto the carpet, Kalina lost her control, ranting and raving at the boy, calling him useless and unworthy of being her blood. Poor Edvard's little chin trembled at the admonishment and tears rolled down his chubby cheeks. Elizabett was shocked at such an aggressive, public display and wanted to speak up in defence of the boy, but instead she discretely grasped Catherine's shoulder, and backed into the living room with the other guests. Merrick and Maude were the last to exit taking Edvard with them as Thomas finally exploded at his wife.

Merrick, whose pursed lips and angry, red face gave testament to how he felt about the situation, cast a Privacy Shield and Silencing Charm on the dining area and stood purposefully beside his wife. Maude trembled as she sank into the nearest chair burying her distraught face into her hands. Elizabett immediately went to the woman who was as close to her as her own mother, and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, snuggling Edvard onto her lap while Catherine sadly leaned against her arm, holding her friend's little hand. Guests slowly began to leave, not knowing what else to do, but Elizabett and Catherine remained for support.

Time passed, longer than anyone had expected, and when the charm was released, Thomas emerged looking drawn, his face pale with despair.

"Is it over?" Merrick's deep voice flatly asked, gazing intently at his son.

Their eyes met, and Thomas' face hardened. "Yes," he solemnly stated with a curt nod. Swallowing hard, he asked, "Can Edvard and I come home with you? Kalina will remain here for the time being. I'll return in the morning to make the final arrangements."

"Of course, dear," Maude breathed, rising, a nod shared between her and her husband.

"We'll take Edvard on ahead," Merrick stated brusquely, waving his hand toward the dining area and the upstairs. "There are things that need to be secured _tonight_. Do what needs to be done here. Make certain the proper spells are cast." He gave his son a firm, knowing look.

Thomas nodded gravely. He knew what he had to do. To preserve the house against Kalina's potential rage and destruction of property, Thomas would have to cast appropriate spells to avoid damage and the disappearance of items. Kalina would have access only to what was hers, but nothing more. She had brought this on herself, and Wizard law dictated that the husband controlled the estate. She would get only what he was willing to relinquish.

As the Cresswells moved toward the door with Edvard, now in Maude's arms, Catherine reached to touch his small boot, a gentle sign of support. Elizabett, mentally, did much the same as she gazed at Thomas, feeling his turmoil.

"You know where to find me," she sadly declared. "You know…"

"I know," Thomas' lips twitched with poignant understanding. He knew that she would always be there for him, no matter what. She would always be his best friend.

As the house emptied, Elizabett could feel another set of spells being cast, wards and a new Silencing Charm. Her heart went out to him, knowing that it was not going to be an easy break.

~~~***~~~

Albus Apparated from Canterbury directly to the tiny bunker in West Berlin. Mr. Prince had been instructed to send the owl half way through the afternoon, so that it would at least appear that Albus' intent was to be at the party. Mr Prince and General Olbricht were waiting in the concrete, subterranean room; the preliminaries of the day's business having already been discussed.

"Was she angry?" Mr. Prince gave Albus a serious look as he entered.

"She wasn't pleased, but Elizabett is …well, Elizabett. I'll make it up to her," he dismissed as he settled into the simple chair opposite Olbricht. "Now, what did I miss?"

Mr. Prince shuffled through some papers in a folder on his lap, and began. "The Muggle Allies have begun their assault to liberate Nazi-occupied cities. It will be a slow process, but one that has stirred various Wizard Resistance fighters into helping." He paused for a moment, flipping some parchments, and then continued. "A massive invasion has been co-ordinated to strike the German strongholds in Western Europeat the beginning of June: both amphibious and air attacks, commencing from the coast of France. Normandy, I believe. The French Wizard Resistance has offered their assistance and is ready to move when we give the word."

Olbricht nodded in approval. "Major General Tresckow organized an attempt to get close to the Fuhrer earlier this month in an endeavour to test part of the plan. It failed. We need to re-examine possible locations for the actual strike. He is very well protected and very paranoid. And, I'm certain that Grindelwald has men in the inner circle. _Imperio_ has been detected, but it's masked. We can't tell who is under it. For all we know, it could be the Fuhrer himself. They're all fanatical," Olbricht concluded as he leaned his elbows onto the cold metal of the desk.

"I see the march on Hungary went well. Were you able to locate Grindelwald's lair?" Albus' face was impassionate and serious, focusing completely on the task at hand.

"No," Olbricht replied. "But, we do have some possibilities that are under investigation - his family home in Miskolc, an old residence in Eger, some addresses of former acquaintances. We don't even know for certain that he _is_ in Hungary."

Albus pressed his lips together in thought. Something in his gut told him that he had been right. He wasn't going to let it go. He thought out loud. "You're looking for something unobtrusive, even hidden." He closed his eyes and centred his thoughts on Grindlewald in the way that Elizabett had taught him, focusing on making a connection with a person's essence. A calm resonance came over him, and his breathing shallowed. "It's old. Overgrown. It looks like it's been abandoned." He let the feel of Grindelwald wash over him, and he inhaled slowly, remembering a long lost feeling from younger years. _Not now!_ He hampered that thought. "We're looking for something in… Aquincum." His eyes opened, earnestly gazing at his associates, a wave of fear flowing through him. He'd been there before. It was the house from his dreams when he was on his honeymoon in France. How could that be? _Why_ would that be? He shook himself back into focus. "The picture in the _Daily Prophet_," he directed his attention to Mr. Prince. "Where was that picture taken?"

Mr. Prince flipped through his folder again. "By the Danube River. Near Szen… Svenso…, oh, some park in the northern Budapest."

There was a pause, all thinking, no one speaking.

"Szentistvan Park. Balzac Street." Albus had his eyes closed again, senses reaching out. His voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes, that's it. How did you know?" Mr. Prince sounded pleasantly surprised as if Albus had just guessed his age.

"I think the tanks may have passed right in front of his house," Albus' voice was deathly quiet.

"How do you know?" Olbricht straightened in his chair, eyes narrowing at the man in front of him. "We haven't been able to locate him. No one is speaking. I honestly don't think anyone knows where he is."

"I can't be certain. Send someone. If I'm right, the house will be set off the main road, hidden behind a tall, iron fence, overgrown with brambles. It will appear to be abandoned, peeling white and black paint, three steps leading to the front door." As he spoke, his eyes closed again, his voice became hypnotic, trance-like.

"It sounds like you've been there before," Olbricht's voice cut harshly into Albus' thoughts, almost accusing.

"I may have been," Albus admitted. "Although, at the time, I didn't know who it belonged to, or why I was there. The house came to me in a dream, and I followed the impression. I never went inside, but the building is heavily warded."

"I'm dispatching men based on a dream?" Olbricht snorted in disbelief.

"Our Ministry puts a high trust in Professor Dumbledore's judgement and intuition. It wouldn't do any harm to Apparate someone into the area to take a look." Mr. Prince came to Albus' defence.

Olbricht leaned back in his seat, hands folded across his stomach, considering the situation. "I suppose," he relented. "I'll let you know what we find," he finally agreed.

The meeting ended shortly after midnight, and the men went their separate ways, uncomfortable with the upcoming events, each for different reasons.

~~~***~~~

The steam from the hot bath released the mild scent of hamamelis, attempting to ease Elizabett's anxious nerves as she stepped into the scalding water. Sinking up to her chin, her mind processed the events of the day.

Albus had been his charming self, escorting her and Catherine to the party. His quick reaction to Thomas' stress had been heart rendering, and Elizabett had been happy to see it. But, there had been something underlying that charm that she couldn't put her finger on until the owl arrived. She snorted. The owl. One from the school owlery. She knew who had sent it and why, regardless of Albus' feigned surprise. Well, at least he had been with them for a little while, although, he missed the action. But, had she really wanted him there when the fight broke out? She wasn't so sure, but her annoyance still rose at the thought of his dismissive departure. She snorted again. "I'll make it up to you," he had said. Always the same line.

Then, there was Kalina, that immature adolescent posing as an adult. Elizabett could feel her temperature rise, and it wasn't due to the hot water. She had tried to like Kalina for Thomas' sake, but there had always been a nagging feeling that something was not right with her. Elizabett had dismissed it as her reaction to the constant juvenile behaviour, but the woman's repulsion at her own son's inabilities disturbed Elizabett more than any previous conduct could. She could feel her heart begin to race as the anger welled. To chastise the child at his own birthday party…she closed her eyes suppressing the rising fury. She was so proud of Thomas for finally standing up to her, regardless of who was present. The situation had to be dealt with immediately and firmly, and Edvard had to know that others were on his side, that it wasn't his fault.

Elizabett felt a strong protective surge when she thought of Edvard. Most Wizard children, by the age of three, had shown at least some magical ability, but Edvard had not shown any. The matter did concern Thomas and his parents as well, but they thought, as Albus did, that Kalina's frustration and impatience with the boy had caused the delay. Thomas had other thoughts, though. In a private discussion with Elizabett one afternoon, he confessed that Edvard's inability might be his fault. He had undergone _Crucio_ many times at the hand of Grindelwald, and this may have affected the boy at conception. It was possible. _Crucio_ affected the nervous system, but Elizabett doubted that was the cause. She encouraged him not to think about it, to be optimistic and supportive, giving Edvard every opportunity to try any new skill.

Thomas, dear, sweet Thomas. This bath was duing no good in calming her, for the more she thought about the day, the angrier she became. He was such a wonderful father and a generous, indulgent husband. He didn't deserve to be treated with such disregard. She knew that he would be fair to Kalina, whether or not she deserved or appreciated it. Some part of her, deep down, wanted to stay with him, to fight for him, but this was his fight, not hers. It was something he had to do. She just hoped that he wouldn't relent.

Finally, there had been Catherine, her angel, sweet and kind, not wanting to leave her friend's side and growing angry at Kalina's behaviour as well. "Why is Edvard's mummy so mean?" she had asked as they were leaving. She had had trouble getting to sleep and had called out to be snuggled. Elizabett had crawled into bed beside her, cradling her child in the warmth and security of loving arms, letting her know that Edvard will need their love to get through this. Catherine had asked if Uncle Thomas would keep Edvard away from Auntie Kalina, and Elizabett could only guess that answer would be "yes". "Good," she had nodded before her sleepy eyes closed, and she drifted into a fitful sleep.

Elizabett rose from the cooling water and wrapped a large, white bath towel around her slight body. Drying off and slipping into her bathrobe, she padded barefoot into the living room. It was almost midnight. Albus wasn't back yet. She wondered if Thomas was still sorting things out with Kalina. She thought of Edvard with Merrick and Maude. Wandering to her daughter's doorway, she watched as the child slept, her auburn curls spread across the pillow, finally, a peaceful look on her small face. The events of the day struck Elizabett to the core, and she thought she might cry, but instead was simply angry: a ferocious, protective sensation toward those she loved.


	46. 46 The Tension That Comes From Knowing

**46 – The Tension That Comes From Knowing There's More **

The cool rains of April turned into bright May sunshine, changing the dull straw-coloured grass that covered the large expanse around the school into a lush, emerald green carpet. If only the brilliance of the outside world would penetrate the anxiety that lurked within.

It had been a roller coaster of emotions the past two months, and it was beginning to fray on Elizabett's nerves. So much had happened, and there was still so much to do.

At the beginning of April, Gellert had sent his falcon, which drew unpleasant attention at breakfast one morning. The bird obviously knew it's target and boldly swooped to the High Table, scattering Post Owls as it did, and dropping a simple missive in front of Elizabett without even landing for a bite to eat. The summons was insistent, and Elizabett knew that to deny the madman would cause more trouble than she was willing to deal with at the moment. Sneaking out that evening wasn't difficult but listening to him rant and rave about the audacity of the Germans, and the invasion of his home territory was irritating. Although, she was pleased to learn that his officers within Hitler's inner circle had been sorely punished for their impudence and their disregard at letting Gellert know of the plan. That would mean the Resistance would have a few less wizards to worry about in German ranks. She'd have to find a way to let them know. _Beside,_ she snorted with disgust, _this was Gellert's game. No one changed the rules without his knowledge, and those who did paid a price. _

Upon her arrival home, she had a near miss with Professors Flaurance and Kettleburn as she strode up the gravel path past the lake. The midnight crescent moon gave little light, but the girlish giggle and a deep, roguish growl alerted her to the aging lovers in the grass by the shore. Twitching a smile to herself, she sidestepped onto the lawn to silently bypass them, entertaining the thought of who would have the more creative explanation for being out at such a late hour.

Once Easter break passed, revisions began, and with the plethora activities happening in the Muggle world, Elizabett was at a loss of where to begin creating the exams. The students were becoming a bit rowdy knowing that the end of the year was fast approaching, and there always seemed to be a cluster who remained after class to discuss the developments in the Muggle war and try to ascertain their professor's view on the matter. One student, in particular, Tom Riddle, had repeatedly broached the comparison between Hitler and Grindelwald, much to Elizabett's discomfort. The solitary boy seemed to have acquired a following that made her uncomfortable and suspicious, and his attraction to the situation made the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She had often tried to discuss the situation with Albus, as she knew that he, too, kept abreast of the boy's interests, but lately this proved nearly impossible as he was often distracted or gone. Horace had somehow managed to draw him back to the dungeons on a regular basis, in addition to his usual disapearances.

By May, Elizabett received an owl from Marceilla with news of Thomas and Edvard. No one had heard from them since Edvard's birthday as the family kept close to themselves, sorting out the details of dissolving a handfasting, and the separation of property. The Tudor had been a Cresswell holding for centuries and would remain so. Most of the original furniture had been removed and stored when Kalina began to "decorate", but would now be returned as Thomas had given Kalina all of the furnishings that she had chosen, and they divided what they had selected together. Surprisingly, it was not as difficult as everyone had anticipated. Both wanted out of the relationship, and as predicted, Kalina relinquished all parental rights to Edvard. She was ready to begin her life over, and had disappeared to parts unknown when the handfastening was officially dissolved. Marceilla relayed that Thomas had taken a leave of absence from work and was spending a great deal of time with his son. Elizabett was happy and relieved to hear that they were all right, but part of her was disappointed that Thomas hadn't contacted her himself.

It was late-May when Elizabett ultimately lost her composure. It was stressful enough to know what Gellert was up to and be unable to do little about it, but it was Albus' unpredictable comings and goings that broke the last straw. Without explanation, at random hours of the day and night, he would disappear for hours, only to return either exhausted or wound-up and saying nothing. Elizabett suspected that his actions were war-related and tried to be understanding, but it became obvious, through insinuations from Horace, that it was not always so. Albus made obvious attempts at placating Elizabett and Catherine during the few times that he was around. However, it came across as more patronizing rather than attentive, and as a result, he and Elizabett had quite a row. Not for the first time in their marriage, Albus slept in his study, this time for three nights before they finally made up.

~~~***~~~

"Trouble in paradise?" Horace snickered as Albus sluggishly took his seat at the High Table for lunch.

"Nothing I wish to discuss here," the older man quietly stated as the meal instantly appeared before him.

He looked tired. Dark patches under his eyes had taken the sparkle from the blue, and the creases on his forehead, at the corners of his eyes, and around his mouth had deepened, making him look older than his fifty-four years.

Ever since his meeting with Prince and Olbricht in March, he had been pulled in a multitude of directions, achieving a great deal, and trying to satisfy everyone. He obviously wasn't successful on all fronts, as last night's fight with Elizabett had proven. He wished he could tell her what was going on, but he didn't want her to worry. However, he was beginning to believe that by not telling her she was worrying anyway. It was a conundrum, and only his recent forays back to the dungeons and the lab gave him peace of mind, even with Horace's presence.

His mind drifted as he automatically ate. What's more, his thoughts continued, is that ever since that meeting, he found himself drawn to connect with Grindelwald. That odd feeling, the memory of an old sensation that he felt in Olbricht's makeshift office had been nagging at his mind. He had tried pushing it away, throwing himself into work both at school and at the Ministry, changing his focus of attention by renewing his visits with Horace and the lab, and overcompensating with Elizabett and Catherine. It worked while he was awake, but in the moments before sleep when his mind was able to drift, that irritating, prickly feeling crept under his skin, and the memories of his youth came back. He had such grand plans. He had an adventurous future waiting for him. There was so much that he wanted to do, but forced responsibility and the realization of how dangerous his search for power and prestige could be had drawn him to this "safe" situation.

His mind wandered as he silently ate his meal, grateful that no one tried to start a conversation with him. This personal conflict needed to sort it out. _What was he so bothered about?_ He questioned himself. He had a good life and loved teaching. He had an esteemed reputation, and the respect of his colleagues. He was often sought for his diplomacy, levelheaded wisdom and intelligence, and as such had been offered positions of power within the Ministry, although he had turned them down. Experience had led him to pointedly steer away from temptation. He had a loving wife and a beautiful child. It was a good life, so why was he so troubled? He abruptly shook his head as if to shake the cobwebs away.

"If I may be so bold," Professor Merrythought began as he discretely leaned toward his friend. "You look terrible. Is there something I can help with?"

Albus looked up from his plate, noticing that although the food had been pushed around, very little had been eaten.

Struggling to smile benignly, he replied, "No. Thank you. I'm just a bit out of sorts today."

Merrythought nodded slightly, an understanding expression covering the older man's face. "I'm surprised you've lasted this long." He looked kindly at his friend. "Many demands have been put upon you. I'm astonished that you have haven't become melancholy before this. May I offer a suggestion?" Albus gazed at the man. "Take a day off. Do something just for you. Stop worrying about everyone else. They'll get along just fine."

Albus sighed lightly. "I think I've neglected my family enough lately. I don't think Elizabett would be too pleased if I go off alone again."

"Then, take her with you. When was the last time you two had a private moment, you know, without Catherine around?" The older professor winked with a knowing nod.

Albus huffed a light chuckle and drew a breath. "It _has _been a while. We're always so busy."

"Take the time." Professor Merrythought placed his hand fatherly on Albus' sleeve. "The world will not fall apart without you."

~~~***~~~

"Come on. Tell me," Elizabett sounded annoyed as she was led, blindfolded, through the corridors of the school.

It was the last Quidditch match of the year – Slytherin verses Ravenclaw, and most of the students and staff were cheering themselves hoarse, leaving the school virtually empty of corporal beings.

"No, not even a hint," Albus teased as he turned her around again and climbed another flight of stairs.

Finally stopping at their destination, the door opened, and Elizabett's senses were struck with the tang of salt air on a gentle breeze. She stiffened slightly and inhaled the fresh scent.

"The Room of Requirement," she stated, a small smile playing on her lips. "The smell of the ocean." Her smile widened.

He led her in and closed the door behind them drawing her through the main room, and finally, gently removing the blindfold. Standing by his wife's side on a wood and stone balcony that overlooked an expanse of blue water, he tenderly took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

"I know how much you like the water, and I don't recall the last time we visited the sea. I thought we could do with a little vacation, even if it is only for the day." Albus' voice was low and steady. "I know things have not gone as planned lately, and I've been preoccupied. But, on the advice of a friend, I decided that we needed a little time to ourselves. The world can do without us for just one day."

"But, what about Catherine? We can't leave her with Petite all day." Elizabett's mind stepped into parental mode.

Albus lips twitched in a tender smile. "She'll be fine. More than fine most likely. Bathilda has taken her for the day; something about a trip to Professor Kettleburn's to see the baby Sillingwats, and then a walk into Hogsmeade. Don't worry. She's in good hands."

"I see you have it all planned." Elizabett's pale eyes met Albus' sparkling blue.

"I have a few things to make up for." He drew his wife into a gentle embrace. Kissing her on the forehead, he added, "I know I get obsessive about what I do, and I know that it appears that other things are more important, but never let yourself believe that I don't love you. I wish I could tell you what's happening, but the fewer people who know; the more likely it is to succeed. Besides, it's not something you need to worry about," he dismissed. "Just know this. I love you and Catherine, and even though it may not seem that you are my first priority in my actions, you are in my heart."

Elizabett returned his embrace, a wave of sentiment flowing over her. "I know that what you do is important, and I know that other things must take priority, whether it be school or the Ministry. I'm not so selfish to not recognize that. But, we hardly talk any more, not even about school. The past few months, we've been like two people sharing living quarters, passing each other with hardly a recognition. I've missed you."

Something in the back of Albus' mind sparked. She'd spoken those words before, at Christmas. Had his preoccupation been that long? He tightened his told.

"Know that whatever happens, you and Catherine are always first in my heart," he whispered into her hair.

Pulling back slightly, he took her hand and led her to two lounge chairs that faced the soothing waves. There, they sat for hours enjoying time that had been missed, sometimes resting in peaceful silence, while other times pointing out a shape in a fluffy cloud or laughing at the antics of the gulls diving into the water. The conversation was kept light and superficial, never delving into the more stressful topics of the outside world. House elves prepared a picnic lunch, and left it on a table in the main room which was a replica of an Italian villa that Albus had once seen in a magazine: light and airy, coloured with blue, green and yellow pastels, a white, stucco ceiling, and an canopy bed on the far wall curtained with gauzy, blue draperies. The room exuded peace and tranquility.

Bringing their lunch to the balcony, they ate as the rippling waves washed upon the beach. It was a peaceful day full of sunshine with no interruptions, no demands of their time, and no stress.

By mid-afternoon, Albus offered his hand to Elizabett with a mischievous twitch of a smile, and she allowed him to pull her out of the comfortable lounge and lead her into the main room. Backing toward the bed, he sat on the edge, kicked his shoes off, and swung his feet up, shifting over and reaching his arm in invitation. Joining him, she curled into his side; languidly draping her right arm across his chest and snuggled under the comfort of his arm. He stroked her back and could feel her shift against him. Turning to face her, his lips curled into a lazy smile as he brought his left hand to stroke her soft cheek.

"You are an incredible woman," he muttered dreamily as his fingertips drew a line down her arm to rest on her hip.

She returned the gesture and grinned impishly. "You have no idea," she replied with a low giggle. Rolling him onto his back, she began a personal assault of light kisses and gentle caresses that would spark any fire. Lifting his robe up and slipping hers over her head, Elizabett manoeuvred to straddle his hips. She couldn't remember the last time they had made love. Valentine's, maybe. Raising his hands to cup her breasts, he began to knead and massage, watching her close her eyes, enjoying the sensation. Shifting a little backwards to grasp him in a warm grip, she stopped, puzzled, and looked down at her husband.

"Are you all right?" she quietly asked, the flesh in her hand still soft and flaccid.

A blank look covered his face as he lowered his hands from her breasts and rested them on her thighs. He didn't know where to begin. This was not going as planned. Eventually, he shook his head ever so slightly. "I can't," he said sadly. "Wish and want as I may, I just can't." He closed his eyes as Elizabett moved from his body to sit beside him. "I want to please you. I know it's been a long time, but…"

Elizabett snuggled back to his side and stroked his chest under his beard. "It's all right," she said struggling to keep the disappointment from her voice. "With everything you've been doing, everything that's going on, I'm sure you have many other things on your mind."

He brought his left arm up and captured her in an embrace. "I do love you," he whispered hoarsely into her hair.

"I know," she whispered back.

Albus rolled onto his back again feeling his wife cuddled securely under his arm and an old phrase that his father used to say suddenly came to him. _"Woman was made from the rib of man: under the arm to be protected, close to the heart to be loved." _He gave Elizabett another gentle squeeze before closing his eyes, the peaceful sound of the waves against the shore and the warmth of her body against his lulling him into a much-needed sleep.

~~~***~~~

As anticipated, June began with a flurry of activity that affected both Wizard and Muggle Europe, and the stresses that had been temporarily quelled at the end of May where on the rise again. The Allies marched on Rome, one of a series of moves to liberate Nazi-occupied cities, and a few days later, Operation Overlord began with both resounding success and tragedy. Allied troops from Britain, the United States, and Canada landed on the west coast of France, thousands upon thousands of soldiers valiantly charging the beaches to fight for freedom, and thousands upon thousands dying in the process. The French Wizard Resistance fighters received support of volunteers from around the Wizard world, some as far away as the Americas, and were able to organize a defence at some of the largest and more difficult strongholds. They struggled to protect the Allied Muggle soldiers from slaughter, but were not always successful as the Muggle machines of violence were, in some cases, more powerful than their magic.

Neither Elizabett nor Albus ventured to Europe during this time. As much as Elizabett wanted to help, there was nothing she could do that wouldn't risk her own life and expose her role in the war. Albus simply was not needed at the moment. Germany had begun retaliation on London, and the Ministry of Magic strongly suggested that Wizards stay close to home. Albus' time would come with Operation Valkrye. Besides with the exams approaching, and their duties as teachers, neither could get away without raising questions, and neither could take that risk.


	47. 47 To Grandmother's House We Go

**47 – To Grandmother's House We Go**

Thunder rolled, and lightening streaked the dismal, grey sky. Rain pounded the glass room unable to penetrate the protected environment and saturate those who sought refuge inside.

Catherine was propped up on a stood beside her grandmother, intently observing the older woman's precision in re-potting a delicate looking plant. The long, slender leaves were covered in pale green, downy fuzz, and Marceilla worked carefully to make certain that the dragon dung didn't get caught in the tiny fibres. Catherine was fascinated, and Marceilla encouraged the child to take part in the final spell to protect the fine roots, although it was the older woman who actual cast the enchantment.

A bright flash of lightening split the sky, followed immediately by an ear-splitting crack of thunder. Catherine startled nearly tipping from her perch.

"That's Zeus providing Mother Earth with the nourishment that she needs," Marceilla explained reverently. "It's been dry for weeks. The ground needs to drink. You know how it feels to be thirsty. Plants are the same." She smiled demurely at her granddaughter.

Catherine nodded, and then frowned as another streak cut through the clouds, the subsequent roll rattling the articles on the table. "But, does he have to be so loud!" she complained as she placed her hands over her ears.

Marceilla lightly laughed and reached to give the child a loving hug. She adored the time spent alone with her granddaughter, and each year looked forward to exam time at the end of June when Catherine came for her annual visit. It worked out well and took the strain from Elizabett and Albus. They could focus on correcting, while Marceilla enjoyed her granddaughter without parental interruption. In other words, she could spoil her. Marceilla smiled serenely to herself: a grandparent's indulgence.

Placing the pot securely on a table near the east window, Marceilla invited Catherine to "lend a finger", as it were. Even with her passion for plants, this was a skill she had never developed. She had to let the plants grow the traditional way, which in reality was best for the plant, but this one needed a little help, and Catherine had the talent to do it.

"Just a little," Marceilla encouraged as the child reached to touch the thin stock. "Only a couple of inches."

Catherine's face scrunched in concentration as she envisioned the plant growing. When her finger made contact, the shoot trembled slightly, and then, very slowly began to creep upward.

"Very good," Marceilla praised. "That's enough."

"What? Afraid she'll turn the solarium into a jungle?" Julius joked from the archway. "Rather like another little girl I once knew." He winked at the child.

"Mummy?" Catherine giggled.

Julius nodded. "She was a little Cornish Pixie the way she used to cover this house with foliage. The solarium. The garden wall. The trellises. Half the forest around the pond. Why do you think we have so many trees down there? That was your mother's doing," he laughed.

"No!" Catherine's eyes widened with wonder. Her mother had done that?

"Yes." Julius grinned.

Catherine looked at Marceilla for confirmation.

Her grandmother nodded. "I'm afraid so." She smiled. "Although, her reasoning made remarkable sense for an eight-year-old. She said that the soil was too dry and would blow away if there weren't enough trees to hold it in place, and that the ducks didn't have adequate protection from the elements."

"I like it. Mummy did a good job," Catherine proudly exclaimed.

"Indeed, she did." Julius lifted this granddaughter onto his hip. "But, don't you get any ideas." He tweaked her nose. "We rather like the place the way it is."

~~~***~~~

July arrived with sunshine and hot weather. Duties at the school were finally finished, and Albus and Elizabett took a few days to enjoy the solitude of the castle. Long, private walks by the lake and quiet conversation as they cuddled on the terrace beneath the stars did a great deal to mend a hurting heart. Although Albus' difficulty with intimacy continued, their old sense of companionship slowly returned as they laughed and joked over silly things. It was almost as if the rest of the world didn't exist for a while, and each took pleasure in the calm reassurance of their unyielding friendship.

However, the peace and isolation couldn't last forever, and with the special, Saturday morning Post Owl came the _Daily Prophet_ to burst their little bubble.

Elizabett sat at the kitchen table in her bathrobe, nibbling on buttered toast, and flipping the crisp pages, her brow creasing as she immersed herself in the silent, moving picture of war ships launching bombs at an unseen target. Increased aggressions in the Ligurian Sea between Italy and France, was far too close to Grandmaman Lestrange's home, and she worried for the old woman's safety. Axius had promised to keep an eye on the matriarch, and the extra enchantments that had been placed on the cottage when the war first began should protect her, but Elizabett was still concerned. She raised her head and stared out the large, living room window in thought.

Across the room, nestled in his favourite chair, Albus read another section of the _Daily Prophet_, his brow furrowing with concern, as well. Things were not going as planned. Although the consistent liberation of Nazi-occupied cities in Italy and France was gaining momentum, but it appeared that the focus of those involved with the critical "plan" was being diverted. Mistakes were being made. Several Wizards who where secretly involved with the German Resistance were under investigation for treason and had mysteriously vanished. Albus hoped that their disappearance was voluntary rather than a result of Grindelwald's forces.

Albus stared blankly at the page, his thoughts taking a different path. Olbricht had sent a communiqué last week, a dangerous move that had surprised both Albus and Mr. Prince. He was struggling to keep his men on task, and had asked for help. Some were beginning to take initiative without consulting the group, and as such a few had been caught. Albus frowned in concentration. It was too close to the assigned time. They couldn't take reckless chances. He'd have to get involved earlier than intended, but how? He and Elizabett were due at Castlewood Manor in a few days. Catherine was waiting. For Elizabett to show up without him would spawn questions from her parents, and knowing their relations with those overseas, he didn't want to draw undue attention to himself.

Placing the paper on his lap, he gazed across the room, his eye catching the sight of his motionless wife. He watched her for a moment.

"You look worried," Albus observed.

"Yes." Elizabett slowly nodded. "I know we put additional charms on Grandmaman's cottage, but I would feel so much better if I knew that she was all right. I've heard nothing from Axius, and my father hasn't been able to go check."

Albus paused for a moment. _This could be the solution to several issues_.

"Would you like to go?" he asked. "We can make a quick trip before joining Catherine. I'm sure I can get us a Portkey, or we can Floo to Nicholas' and Apparate from there."

Elizabett's cheeks flushed at the possibility. "Can we? We can go together?" she asked, her eyes shining brightly.

"I'll see what I can do." He stood and headed toward the Flooto begin making inquiries.

~~~***~~~

The tall grass of the meadow below the bluff waved gently in the breeze, and the scent on honeysuckle mingled with salt. Albus had acquired the Portkey quickly, and by the following morning, he and Elizabett stood on the hillock above Grandmaman Lestrange's ancient cottage. From the distance, it appeared safe and secure in its quaint valley, the light shimmer of multiple enchantments reflecting in the mid-morning sunlight.

Descending the gentle slope, the couple made their way through the timothy, and had Elizabett's mind been more at ease, she would have enjoyed the meadow of fragrant honeysuckle. As they pushed at the rickety, picketed gate, the blackened, front door opened, and an old woman in a gauzy, sea-green robe emerge, her wispy, white hair tousled by the wind.

"Cherie," she called with a joyous wave. "I knew you would come. I saw it in my morning tea."

Elizabett quickly bound up the steps, and pulled the tiny woman into her arms. "Bonjour, Grandmaman." She gave her grandmother an adoring hug. "I'm so glad to see that you're all right."

"Of course I'm all right. Why wouldn't I be?" The ancient matriarch pulled back to curiously gaze at her granddaughter. Then, the look changed to understanding. "Oh, that," she dismissed with casual shrug of her shoulders. Squeezing Elizabett's hands in hers, she confidently continued, "The Goddess keeps me safe. I have lived through many wars, some closer than this. Don't you worry," she reassured. "I'm fine. Albus." She let go of Elizabett and turned her attention to the man. "Handsome as ever." She winked flirtatiously. "Ahh, to be young again. Come." She pulled him into the cottage while Elizabett grinned and followed. "I've made a new pot of tea. You will join me." The comment was a statement rather than a request.

Morning passed quickly, and by late afternoon Elizabett moved to prepare dinner for the trio. The conversation had bounced from the war to Grandmaman's garden to school to Catherine's growing abilities. Albus' pride in his daughter was obvious as he discussed the beautiful rose garden that they were tending, but Grandmaman's pasted smile was cautious. There was something about her granddaughter's husband that was different, a deep-seated dilemma in his subconscious. It was something that hovered just below the surface, not obvious, but there, nevertheless. She watched as he devotedly offered to help peel the carrots, and then move to set the small wooden table. The young couple had an easiness about them that wasn't forced, a definite friendship and obvious affection. She smiled to herself. Maybe she was just getting old.

Late that night, as the crescent, waning moon was on the descent, and everyone else was asleep, Albus stood at the tiny window by the fireplace staring into the dark distance. All in all, it had been a good day. Elizabett was happy to see her grandmother, and he was pleased to have provided the opportunity for her. Grandmaman Lestrange was delighted to spend time with her granddaughter, reassuring her that all was well, that Axius had been by on several occasions. But, the old woman had watched him carefully, not unpleasantly but cautiously, as if she suspected that something was wrong but didn't want to pry. He suspected that she had a certain sense of omniscience about her, that she knew what he was feeling, maybe even thinking, but she said nothing in front of Elizabett, to which Albus was grateful.

"A beautiful wife and a warm bed, and he stands by an empty window," the aged voice was soft behind him. He was wondering when she'd make her move.

"I couldn't sleep," Albus quietly replied as he turned toward her.

"Obviously," her lips twitched slightly upward at the corners. "Come. Sit with me," she invited turning to wandlessly cast a Silencing Charm on the doorway to the bedrooms as she lowered into her rocker.

Albus complied. It would be pointless to refuse. He eased himself into a stiff, wooden chair that sat at an angle facing the empty hearth.

"Are you going to read my palm?" he asked curiously with an impish twitch of his lips as he leaned his elbows onto his knees and peered up at her. It was something she tended to do regardless of his consent.

"I don't need to," she began sombrely. "You're aura shows me what I need to know. You're confused. I don't think I've ever seen so many colours shift back and forth. Your thoughts must be driving you mad." Her gaze was unrelenting but concerned.

"I have a lot on my mind," Albus sighed, leaning back.

Grandmaman nodded slightly. "Mmm, yes. You have many responsibilities, and they're pulling you in many directions. Years ago, I told you that care must be taken in what you do. My advice still holds." Her voice was curiously calming. "Elizabett will be returning to England without you," she stated clearly.

Albus could feel a cold shiver run up his spine. She knew. "Yes," he admitted. "I have business here, and it would do no good to have her around."

"Dangerous business," Grandmaman stated. "I fear it will not go well." She stared into the darkness, a trance-like posture falling over her. "Many will die. Be sure that you are not one of them." She turned her head to the younger man, compassion in her eyes. "I would hate for that to happen." There was another pause. "But, there's more."

"There's always more." Albus kept his head down, studying his fingers laced on his lap.

"Your feelings for Elizabett have changed."

"No," he firmly denied, unable to look up. "I love my wife."

Grandmaman's lips curled upward again, and she nodded slightly. "Yes. You love her. But, that love has changed." She rocked slowly, the chair creaking against the hardwood floor. "I suppose as time passes, comfort is found, and excitement is no longer important." There was an uncomfortable moment before she boldly continued. "When was the last time you two made love?"

Albus choked on the question. "I hardly think…" he began with shock.

"I'd say…months," Grandmaman interrupted without flinching. "Too long." She continued to stare forward. "You must be honest with yourself as to why. Excuses will only go so far." She paused again choosing her next words carefully. "Old habits are hard to overcome, and sometimes we cannot change who we are, regardless of how much we want that change to be." Grandmaman's eyes held a deep sympathy as she shifted in her seat. "I will not tell you what to do. This is something you must face on your own. It is clear that you love your wife and daughter, but know this, when you are untrue to yourself, you are untrue to all around you, all who care for you. Life is like a spider's web. All of the strands are interconnected. You cannot pull one without affecting the balance of the whole."

She stopped talking and rocked for a few moments, the sound of the crickets chirping and heat bugs buzzing accentuated the silence. Finally, she rose, placing a warm, gnarled hand on Albus' shoulder. "You're a good man, cher. You have a good heart. I have faith in you," she said before toddling down the short hallway to her bedroom leaving Albus staring into the night, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

Leaning forward, he buried his face in his hands and silently wept.


	48. 48 Valkryie

**48 – Valkyrie**

"Mommy!" Catherine shrieked as she raced up the garden path and flung herself into her mother's arms. "I missed you." She nuzzled into the warm crook of Elizabett's neck while putting a strangle hold on the travel-weary woman.

"I missed you more, because I'm bigger," Elizabett laughed as she squeezed her little girl giving her a spin.

"Immmmmpossible!" Catherine gave her customary reply with a giggle.

Lifting her head, and looking around, she slid from her mother's arms, and asked, "Where's Daddy?" Her forehead creased as her bottom lip began to protrude.

"We went to check on Grandmaman Lestrange, and he had some business to tend to in France for the Ministry. He'll join us as soon as he can," Elizabett replied cheerily lifting the child's chin with her finger.

"Gods, the man hasn't seen his child in nearly a month. You'd think that would come first," Thomas' voice boomed from the entrance of the kitchen, his annoyance obvious.

"Well, hello to you, too." Elizabett cocked her head to the left to signal not to continue the tirade in front of Catherine. Thankfully, he caught on.

"Auntie Lizzie!" Edvard bound forward, pushing his father aside, his chubby arms outstretched for a hug.

Lifting the boy up, Elizabett gave the youngster a squeeze and asked, "When did you get here?"

"This morning," he replied. "I comed to visit Caty. We played in the pond."

"Really?" Elizabett feigned surprise. "Did you get wet?"

"Of course, silly. Caty splashed me." He giggled as he was lowered to the ground.

"We've been coming on and off since Catherine has been here. Usually Mother brings him, but I was off today. Our mothers are in the sitting room having a chat. We didn't know when you'd be arriving today. I don't want to intrude. You haven't seen your family in weeks." Thomas stood, unmoving, in the entranceway.

"_You_ are family, Thomas. You're always welcome. And, Catherine adores Edvard. Father is at the Ministry, and I've already talked with Mother. Come." Elizabett motioned to the small, wrought iron table and chairs on the stone patio where a Petite had place a snack tray. "Will you join us?"

Thomas cautiously moved toward a vacant chair and sat, while Elizabett poured two glasses of juice for the children and two glasses of iced tea for them. The children grabbed a couple of biscuits from the plate and sat on the soft grass to eat as Elizabett took a spot opposite her old friend. There was an uncomfortably silence for a moment, a slight charge in the air crackling the stillness. They studied each other briefly before Thomas finally spoke.

"Business?" he asked unconvinced. "What kind of business?'

"I don't know," Elizabett admitted. "And, no, I wasn't pleased when he said he wasn't coming home with me. Part of me understands that what he does is important, yet the other part of me is screaming, "So is your daughter!"." She waved her hands angrily in the air.

Thomas "humphed", shook his head, and looked away. "Bloody war. Bloody Muggles. Bloody Grindelwald." He said the last with pure venom. "How's your grandmother?" He quickly changed the subject and twitched a small smile at the thought of the feisty, old woman.

Elizabett grinned, flopping back into her chair. "She's still a character. Not afraid of anything. There's a battle going on right outside her window, right in the sea, and she acts as if she's perfectly safe." She shook her head. "I suppose, when you think about it, she's lived through so much, she's probably earned the right not to fear."

"What was it she said one time when we were little?" Thomas tried to remember. "_Death is nothing to be afraid of. It's merely a transfer of corporal energy into spiritual energy. We can only die if people forget about us._ Somehow, I don't think anyone who knew your grandmother would ever forget her," he finally chuckled.

"I think you're right," Elizabett agreed with a smile.

The afternoon passed at a relaxed pace, and Thomas and Elizabett took the children back to the pond. Elizabett sat on the bank, laughing at the sight of the father and son wading in the water with their pant legs and shirt sleeves rolled up, father teaching son how to catch frogs…much to Catherine's dismay, who ran screaming with laughter when Edvard chased her with a slimy handful.

By dinnertime, the four stumbled their way back to the house, shoes in hand, faces tanned with the sun, and all smiles. Maude had returned to her home, Julius was back from the Ministry, and Thomas and Edvard were invited to stay for the evening meal.

As the family gathered, Julius cast Marceilla a curious look when Thomas held Elizabett's chair for her to sit, and Edvard imitated his father by pulling out Catherine's. When Thomas took his seat, the older couple didn't miss the comfortable smiles exchanged. Julius raised a questioning eyebrow to his wife who gave an imperceptible shrug.

~~~***~~~

"It's failed twice already. We can't risk another failure." Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg paced the small bunker, his youthful face creased with concern. "Hitler is presently at the Wolf's Lair. He has daily strategy meetings, one of which I must attend in a few days. That will be our next strike. It must succeed."

"Will your adjutant go with you?" Olbricht asked.

"Yes," Claus replied referring to his wizard assistant who would help carry out the next attack.

"And General Fromm, will he be there as well?" Olbricht continued.

"He should be. Although, he's been avoiding me lately, he can't refuse an order from the Fuhrer." Stauffenberg turned and unconsciously adjusted his eye patch, a reminder that even wizards are not impervious to shrapnel.

"Still sitting on the fence, is he?" Olbricht huffed. "The man knows of our plan, has given his input and verbal support, and has not reported us to the Gestapo. Yet, when asked to partake, he refuses."

"He doesn't want to get involved. There are many like him. If this doesn't go as it should, he'll still be safe. His hands are clean." Claus stopped in front of Olbricht's desk. "But, I don't trust him."

The older German officer sat in the hardwood, office chair, his right elbow leaning heavily onto the armrest, his fingers tapping his lips in angry thought. "Tell me the plan again," he instructed.

Stauffenberg nodded. "My adjutant and I will go to the conference room in the Fuhrer Bunker at Wolf's Lair. Each of us will have a bomb in our briefcases. Prior to the meeting, we will place our briefcases on the floor close to the Fuhrer. There is often a great deal of movement before everyone takes their place. No one should notice. The room is made of steel-reinforced concrete. The force of the double explosion inside such a room will ensure that all are killed. Just before the meeting begins, my adjutant and I will excuse ourselves, and Apparate back to Berlin. There, I will be in position to initiate Operation Valkyrie."

"Don't rush," Mr. Prince cautioned from his stance in the corner of the small room.

"You must wait to ensure that Hilter is indeed dead. The operation depends on this. German soldiers are honour bound to uphold their oath of loyalty to the Fuhrer. Only with his death are they freed from it."

"I am well aware of the _Reichswehreid_." Stauffenberg eye the Englishman with annoyance. "This is _our_ country we're fighting for, and there have been too many mistakes already."

"We meant no offence." Albus stepped forward from the concrete wall. "And, we realize that this could be our last chance. The risk is high. General Olbricht asked us to be here for support. You may need the extra magical force, especially if Grindelwald gets wind of this."

Stauffenberg's glare was stony, but he kept quiet. He didn't like the interference from the British Ministry. It wasn't their fight, and he felt very capable of handling the situation without their assistance, but Olbricht had overruled him, sending for the reinforcement.

"Enough," Olbricht's voice was soft yet firm. "It's a good plan, simple and effective, something the Muggles would have thought of themselves. It would eliminate the upper echelon in one fell swoop. If we had more of our men in the room, _Avada Kedavara _could be cast, but we don't have that luxury. Even under Disillusionment Charms, Grindelwald's men could detect you, and all would be for nothing. We can't take that chance."

The men nodded in silent agreement, and an unspoken truce was called. They were on the same side. There couldn't be dissention now.

~~~***~~~

The Wolf's Lair was a massive complex embedded deep within a northern Polish forest close to the Soviet Union. It consisted of three separate and secured zones: one housed Hitler and his upper echelon, another housed the military barracks and less important "important" people, and the third was the outer security compound complete with land mines and guard houses. It was far from major roads and was serviced only by the small airfield in Rastenburg and a tiny train station. The few roads that did exist were unkempt, packed dirt that deterred any interest in the area. It was nearly impossible to get to.

Albus, Mr. Prince, and two other members of the British Ministry's special task force stood by the fifteen foot high, barbed wire fence on the west side of the security compound. They had tried several times to Apparate in, but were blocked by a series of complex spells that could only mean that Grindelwald and his people were protecting the area.

As they waited, unable to help, the air shuddered as a muffled blast was felt through the trees.

"That's it," Mr. Prince said as he peered around a thick trunk. "If we can't get in, I'm curious to know how Stauffenberg intends to get out."

"Probably the Muggle way," Albus assured. "He's a brilliant man, quick thinking, and completely immersed in his role. I suggest we wait."

Minutes passed like hours as the wizards stood staring into the protected compound, and half an hour later, a car was heard bouncing over the dirt road. It stopped at the last check post, and the men in the woods held their breath as Stauffenberg raised his wand, pointed it at the guard, and cast _Confundus, _as the siren in the first compound wailed. They were let through with ease and continued the jostling ride until they reached the British contingent. Pulling the car to the side of the road and casting a Concealment Charm, Stauffenberg and his adjutant got out and smiled at the group, adrenaline racing through their veins making their eyes glisten.

"Done?" Mr. Prince anxiously asked. "He's dead?"

Claus snapped his head in a sharp nod. "No one could survive that blast. They were all there," he responded with pride.

"Good." The group breathed a collective sigh. "We'll meet you in Berlin."

With another sharp nod, the two German officers Disapparated, leaving the British Wizards standing in the woods. Mr. Prince took another deep breath, smiling, but Albus' intuition had the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

He shook his head slowly. "There's something not right," he cautiously stated.

Mr. Prince clapped him on the shoulder jovially. "You worry too much. Have faith in the abilities of our colleagues."

Albus' brow creased, and he shook his head slowly again. "I can't describe it. A feeling - dread."

"Come on, Albus. You're worrying the others. Everything will be fine. It's over," Mr. Prince assured with a confident smile.

Albus remained silent. It was no use trying to explain what even he couldn't understand, but the feeling was strong. An old feeling. His body shuddered.

~~***~~~

The flurry of activity that followed that afternoon was one bent on pure organized chaos.

Staufferberg's bomb had ignited on schedule, but the announcement of the Fuhrer's death had been inaccurate. Something had gone wrong, and sirens screamed as the Gestapo raced back to Berlin.

By the time Albus and the others arrived, Wehrmacht Headquarters, where the German Military Resistance was housed, was under lock-down, and a familiar blond head was seen strutting amongst the group. Albus swallowed hard and cast a Disillusionment Charm, easing his way, with the others, along the stone wall toward the main entrance. Suddenly, Mr. Prince placed a firm hand on his shoulder, stopping everyone.

"Wait," he whispered. "The Resistance know what their doing. Surely they would have Disapparated out of there by now. We should go back to the bunker, and wait for news."

Albus held his wand at the ready, staring at the blond in full Gestapo uniform, but he pulled back with the others. "I want to stay here," his voice was barely a whisper.

Mr. Prince nodded. "Fine. Send word when you hear something," he instructed as he and the others vanished to safer grounds.

Albus remained under the Disillusionment Charm, tucked into a small alcove on the east side of the courtyard, watching the proceedings, and making the occasional attempt to break through the wards set up by Grindelwald's men. He prayed that the wizards inside had gotten out, but sensed that they hadn't.

As darkness fell, his instinct was confirmed. Shortly after midnight, four glazed-eyed men were escorted into the Wehrmacht courtyard by a troop of armed soldiers. They appeared to be under an Impedimenta or Confundus Charm for they didn't resist and showed no outward signs of fear. Lining up against the backdrop of a dozen glaring headlights, they silently held their heads high, their reflections casting long shadows across the pavement.

Albus' eyes closed for a moment, then he raised his wand and muttered a determined, "_Protego Totalum",_ toward his German colleagues.

Suddenly, a light chuckle to his left startled him, and he spun feeling the chill of _Finite Incantatum_ disengage his Disillusionment Charm. His wand was magically wrenched from his hand, and _Impedima Totalum _was cast before he could react.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the blond in the Gestapo uniform stepped within an inch of Albus' face. "Hello, luv," Gellert breathed, his malicious grin sending a nauseous shiver down Albus' spine. "Please take note that I have not killed you. I want you to see this." He waved toward the courtyard as his grin turned into a leer. "Such a bold attempt on the Fuhrer's life today. It's a good thing my men are more competent than yours. I thought you were better than that. Oh, his time will come," he reassured confidently noticing Albus' puzzled expression. "But, I still need him for now." He casually ran a finger down Albus' cheek, across his shoulder and down his chest, to cup his groin through the folds of his dark robe. "This is the reason you're not petrified." Gellert stroked Albus harshly. "A Body Bind Curse would limit your response. I wanted to feel your reaction." He chuckled again as he took Albus in full grip. "There." He leaned closer as the flesh in his hand hardened. "That's better." Their eyes locked for a moment, but Albus had cast Occlumens. Gellert sighed. "Fine. Have it your way. I have work to do. Consider this a gift." His left hand waved toward the courtyard as he gave Albus' groin a tighter squeeze with his right. "Enjoy the show." With a quick kiss on his cheek, he smiled as he turned his back on the immobile man, pacing the length of the square to take his place on the commanding side of the soldiers.

General Fromm quickly approached, clicked his heels, and bowed curtly to Grindelwald, clear evidence that Fromm was one of his men, one who had successfully played both sides, the one who had turned on his own.

Raising his arm, Grindelwald gave the final command.

"Bereit, Ziel, Feuer!"

The blast of rifles echoed in the square, the sound reverberating off the stone walls of the block houses, getting lost in the night.

Grindelwald tossed his head back and laughed manically as the leaders of the German Wizard Resistance fell. Then, as silence engulfed the darkness, he vanished into thin air.

Albus felt the power of the charm release, and he slumped against the side of the alcove. How could he have let Gellert surprise him? He had been so intent on saving the others that he had lost track of the Dark Wizard in the crowd. Squeezing his eyes shut in personal anger, he straightened away from the wall and watched as soldiers lifted the lifeless bodies of the brave men into a truck. This battle may be over, but the war was not.

~~~***~~~

The bright sunshine of late afternoon still sent heat waves across the expanse of grass that led to the front door of Castlewood Manor.

Albus and the others had Portkeyed back to Britain early that morning and made their reports to the Ministry of Magic. Once finished, he desperately wanted to hide from the world, but family responsibilities drove him forward once again in his life.

Castlewood Manor stood elegant and proud against the setting sun, and he stopped half way up the gravel path to look at the historic building. He was tired, his brain was foggy, and he was emotionally drained. He was still angry with himself, and unconsciously slipped his hand into the front of his robe. Feeling the bile rise in his throat, he swallowed hard, struggling to push the memories of the previous twenty-four hours aside. Wearily climbing the front steps, he knocked on the door, and when it finally opened, Elizabett stood before him, her hair girlishly loose around her heart-shaped face, her pale blue eyes gazing up at him as her face broke into a warm smile. He stood still, gazing at her, unable to move forward until she quietly reached for him and said, "Welcome home, darling." With that, all control vanished, and he violently shook unable to stop. Stepping into the doorway, he clasped onto his wife as if she were the last salvation in a dying world. As her arms wrapped comfortingly around him and her hands soothingly ran up his back, he began to cry, deep sobs of an exhausted man. Drawing him into the house and closing the door, Elizabett escorted her husband into the sitting room and sat on the sofa, cradling his head against her shoulder and rocking, not knowing what else to do, and thankful that the others were out for the afternoon.

Casting a ward on the room, they sat like that into the night, wrapped in each other's arms and saying nothing.


	49. 49 We'll Always Have Paris

**49 – We'll Always Have Paris**

Albus' eyes fluttered open as tiny streaks of light struggled to filter around the edges of the thick curtains. It had been two days since his arrival, and by now the news of what was now being called the "Rastenburg Plot" had spread through both the Muggle and Wizard worlds. Albus had slept, or pretended to sleep, for most of those two days, staying in the bedroom and not venturing into the rest of the house. Petite had brought meals, and when the house was quiet, he would sit by the window staring out across the meadow, watching Elizabett and Catherine play in the grass, the birds glide on the light breeze, or simply, the sun as it shifted through the summer sky. Elizabett had slept beside him each night, spooning him from behind with her small body, exuding comfort with her gentle gestures, but he couldn't respond. He merely absorbed whatever energy she sent his way. Now, as he stared at the pristine, white ceiling, he could hear Catherine's voice from somewhere close by.

"But, Mummy," she whined. "I want to see my Daddy. Why is he sleeping so much? Is he sick?'

"No, Sweetheart," Elizabett gave a hushed reply. "He's just very tired. Whatever he did when he was away exhausted him. He needs to rest."

"Didn't he tell you what happened?" the child asked in a tiny voice.

"No. He hasn't talked much since he's been home," Elizabett sounded concerned.

"It musta been really bad if he doesn't want to talk." Catherine tried to sound mature for her six years, but Albus could hear the disappointment in her voice.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he struggled to stand, and slowly crept across the room. Placing a weak hand on the knob, he turned it, and opened the door to find Elizabett and Catherine standing at the end of the hallway.

Poking his tousled head out through the arch, he forced a small smile. "Where's my girl?" he croaked, leaning against the doorframe for support.

Catherine looked up at the mother for a clue of what to do, and Elizabett smiled down at her with a gentle nod. Slowly making her way up the hall toward her father, she bit her lower lip in uncertainty.

"Did we wake you up?" Her eyes were big, blue saucers.

"No," he sighed as he knelt to face the child. "I missed my girl." Drawing Catherine into a loving embrace, he hugged her, burying his face in the crook of her tiny neck. "I love you, my sweet. Never forget that."

Albus had lunch on the patio with his family and listened with rapt attention as Catherine chattered about her summer at Castlewood Manor – of her days at the pond, of helping Gramma in the sunroom with the plants, of Grampa watching as she practiced on her broom, and of playing with Edvard when "Grandma" Maude or Uncle Thomas brought him to visit. She was like a windup toy, animated and endless, a delight to watch.

"Are you all right, Daddy?" Catherine suddenly stopped, her face in stricken concern. "You're crying."

"Am I?" Albus wiped the back of his hand across his cheek. "Well, so I am." He twitched a small smile at his daughter then reached for her.

She slid from her seat and moved to stand before him. Pulling her onto his lap, he snuggled her close. "I really did miss you."

~~~***~~~

"So, he's back, is he?" Thomas met Elizabett on the back patio as Edvard joined Catherine on the lawn. "Has he told you why he was away?" His voice dripped with distain.

Elizabett's eyes narrowed in anger. "I would appreciate it if you didn't take that tone toward my husband. He's been through a lot."

Thomas "hmphed". "My apologies," he said ungraciously. "I have difficultly with the way he takes advantage of you and Catherine. You should be his first priority, and you never are, never were, and you put up with it. I know, I know, his work is important," he dismissed with a curt wave as he lowered himself into the white, wrought iron patio chair. "I've heard rumours about his various jobs with the Ministry, and yes, I agree, it is important, but so are you." He sharply pointed a finger at Elizabett, leaning forward slightly. "And, that's what bothers me," he sulked as he flopped back. "You didn't answer the question. Has he said anything about what happened?"

Elizabett took a place opposite him. "Bits and pieces but nothing of the actual assignment." She shook her head sadly. "I've never seen him so distraught. It worries me."

Thomas pressed his lips together turning his head to blankly stare across the meadow. Regaining focus, he took a breath and cautiously began. "You heard what happened in Poland? The attempt on Hitler's life that failed?" Thomas warily asked.

Elizabett nodded, then gasped with sudden realization. "No!" She jerked forward in her seat. "You think he was involved with that? Why? What makes you think so?"

"I have a friend in the department of International Wizard Co-Operation. I don't know all the details, but there's a rumour of a special task force that plotted with the German Resistance against Hitler, and I heard Albus' name linked with it."

"But, why?" Elizabett was stunned. "Why would they want Hitler dead? I mean, I know why, but aren't they after Grindelwald?" she sputtered.

"Yes, but they suspect that Grindelwald has men in Hitler's inner circle controlling the man, and therefore controlling the war. Take out one and you have a chance of getting the other. But, you knew about…"

Elizabett jerked her head sharply for Thomas to stop. This was not a place to speak freely, and they were getting careless.

"According to the wireless," he took the hint and continued, "the mission fail, and over two hundred conspirators were killed by the end of it. If he was involved, it's no wonder he's so troubled. That's a lot to deal with." Thomas actually sounded sympathetic toward Albus.

Elizabett glanced over her right shoulder to the window upstairs where her husband was supposed to be taking a nap. "Oh, sweet Merlin," she barely whispered.

~~~***~~~

July peacefully passed into August, and Albus slowly rejoined the living world, but remained unusually quiet and distant even for him. After two weeks secluded at Castlewood Manor, it was obvious that his attention was drifting back to the war, and he began regular trips to the Ministry. The private time that had been spent with Catherine and Elizabett once again became secondary to his work. He had a new project in hand, one that stirred a fiery anger in him that Elizabett couldn't understand, and Albus wouldn't explain.

It was mid-August, after a particularly difficult day, and after Catherine had been put to bed for the evening, when the couple quietly sat in the sitting room with Julius and Marceilla. There was a solitary peace within the group as each read their own literature. Occasionally, Marceilla would quote something to Elizabett from her magazine, and they would chuckle. Or, Julius would mutter something about a news article in the _Daily Prophet, _but little else was said. Albus sat in an armchair near the window absently flipping pages in the book on his lap. His agitation filled the room, but the others tried to ignore it.

As Elizabett scanned her section of the newspaper, she indistinctly questioned Albus about his activities with the Ministry, not raising her head and referring to an article that she was reading about a new campaign involving France. Albus irritably tossed his book onto the side table drawing surprised attention from her and his in-laws.

"Can't a man read in peace?" His snapped response began a tirade that was so uncommon for him that Elizabett drew back in confusion, stunned into silence. She had never seen him so angry, and his anger seemed to be directed at everyone and everything, but also seemed to stem from an anger deep within himself. Finally, he sharply rose and strode out of the room. Elizabett quickly followed.

"What's with you?" she demanded crossly. "I was simply asking a question. I didn't deserve such a harsh response."

Albus turned on his heel to face her, his face clouded and unreadable. "No, you didn't," he said lowly and unemotionally. "I can't deal with this now." He sounded annoyed with himself.

Pacing to the Floo, he grabbed a handful of powder, and turned to face the hearth. Stepping in, he threw the powder down, commanding, "Nicholas Flamel's" and was instantly gone in a flash of a bright, green flame.

Elizabett stood, dumbfounded, in the doorway of the sitting room not knowing what to do. Her first thought was to follow him, but she immediately pushed that aside. Maybe a trip to Nicholas' would do him good. It had been a while since he had visited his friend. She thought it would be best to just give him space.

In the other room, her parents silently sat, holding their tongues, wanting to protect their daughter, but trying to mind their own business. Both buried their faces in the material they were reading, mindful that things had a way of working out in the end: sometimes in ways that were comfortable and easy, sometimes in ways that were painful and difficult, but it always worked out… somehow.

~~~***~~~

"Merlin, preserve us! This is a surprise. Come in. Come in." Nicholas' ancient hand reached to pull his friend from the flame before Albus crumbled onto the antique Persian carpet. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" The old man released his grip when the younger man steadied.

Albus opened his mouth several times to speak, but nothing came forth. He simply shook his head in utter distress.

"Come. Sit." Nicholas fatherly guided him to an upholstered wing chair near the fire. "I don't think I've ever seen you this distraught. Is Elizabett all right?" he anxiously asked. Albus nodded. "Is it Catherine? Is the child all right?" he questioned again. Albus nodded once more, but was caught in a steadfast gaze from Nicholas. "Gellert," the old man stated resolutely. "You saw him again. Oh, dear." He sank into the depths of the twin wing chair opposte his friend. Holding Albus' gaze for a moment, he searched his mind. "It looks like you could use a drink."

Albus nodded dumbly while Nicholas _Accio_'d a dusty, old bottle and two stout glasses from the sideboard on the far wall.

"For a time such as this." He held the bottle up, uncorked it, and poured two hefty measures into the glasses. Handing one to Albus, he instructed, "One gulp. It'll burn like a Chinese Fireball's breath, but it'll calm your nerves."

Nicholas raised the glass in the air and brought it to his lip. With a toss of his white head, he downed the contents in one swallow, and signalled for Albus to do the same. The younger man looked into the glass, swirled the contents, and tentatively brought the drink to his lip. Tipping his head back, he poured the liquid down his throat. It burned its way to the pit of his stomach, and he coughed, gagging for relief.

Nicholas chuckled softly. "Give it a moment," he said light-heartedly. "You'll feel it soon."

Albus closed his eyes while a warmth flooded his body, weakening his muscles, and releasing all the tension of the past few months. Slumping into the chair, he opened his eyes and fuzzily looked across at the old man.

"Circe and Merlin, that's strong," he slurred.

Nicholas smiled again. "Now, tell me what happened."

It didn't take much for Albus to begin the story, and as the men talked into the night; the liquor loosened any inhibitions that he may have had about discussing the incident with Gellert. The tale spilled forth in an uncontrollable flood of shame, helplessness, and frustration. Memories of a distant past came back, and he was eager to push it aside. He told of the dream he had during his honeymoon in Paris, and his subsequent visit to the house that he later discovered belonged to Gellert. He washed his hands over his face when he told of his love for his wife but his inability to consummate that love. He thought at first that it was merely his preoccupation and stresses of his activities, but then, remembered what Grandmaman Lestrange had said about changed feelings and denying who we really are. He rambled for a long time, while Nicholas expertly posed questions to gently prod the release from Albus.

Finally, Albus closed his eyes. "Merlin's beard, I'm so tired," he breathed as he slumped back into the soft cushion, his arms limp on the armrests.

"Sleep, then," Nicholas' hypnotic voice entered Albus' subconscious. "You're welcome to stay as long as you wish." But, the invitation wasn't heard as Albus' light snore gave testament to his exhaustion.

Perenelle quietly entered the room. "Shall we get in touch with Elizabett?" she whispered as she covered the younger man with the brightly coloured blanket.

"Not tonight. It's late, and she knows where he is." Nicholas gazed at the sleeping man. "He'll do it when he's ready."

Perenelle sadly tsked. "Poor man." She gave an extra tuck at the covers around Albus' neck. "So confused."

Nicholas stood and slipped his hand around his wife's waist. "Yes, it is sad."

~~~***~~~

Adrenaline was high, and nerves were stretched to their limit. The night hadn't gone as planned, and the battle raged. Allied and Wizard forces had fought valiantly to free Paris from German control throughout the grey, August afternoon, but with the fall on evening, the fading light cast the bleak battle into the shadows: a perfect place for Grindelwald's men to hide. Elizabett had received word from her contact in Paris the previous day and couldn't refuse joining the Resistance in this fight. It was too close to her heart.

Albus had been gone for days. He had sent a short Floo message from Nicholas' telling her that he intended to stay until they were due back at the school the following week. He'd meet her there. They had things to discuss. Elizabett fumed but took the opportunity to focus her attention on something completely different – freeing Paris.

Crouched behind a pile of charred crates, she peeked over the edge at the mayhem on the street. There had been an ambush. Someone had told their plan, and as Muggle soldiers pushed forward, securing the area, the Wizard Resistance had a battle of their own to contend with.

Casting _"Petrificus Totalus"_ on the approaching German officer, she thought she recognized the man. One of the Blacks, she was quite sure, but his name slipped her mind. The man froze on the spot as a Muggle grenade rolled to his feet. The subsequent explosion was deafening, and debris littered the road. Elizabett took the opportunity to skitter to another location, ducking under the Spellfire.

_Avada Kadavara_ bounced off the brick wall above her head as she quickly rose to cast _"Expelliarmus",_ followed in succession by _"Stupefy"_ and another _"Petrificus Totalus"._

Finding a burnt out car to hide behind, she watched as a group of Resistance fighters appeared to her left to confront four of Grindelwald's Wizards who arrogantly strutted into the open, wands out, and ready to cast. The fight was short lived but spectacular, and from her concealed position, Elizabett had perfect aim. When a tank rolled onto the street, scattering the combatants, it stirred up dust, and between the dust and Apparition, the fighters disappeared. Elizabett was left alone, breathing heavily and scanning the area.

"There's one." She heard a voice shout from somewhere to her right, and as she rose, she was quickly grabbed by her arm and hauled into an alley. Struggling, she and her assailant tripped backward landing face to face with a dead, French soldier. Spellfire came together with bullets as both ricocheted off the brick walls of the bombed out homes. Nowhere was safe.

Elizabett struggled to their feet, ready to fight, when she recognized Thomas as the one who had pulled her out of the line of fire. As a "crack" of Apparition sounded at the entrance of the alley, he leaped in front of her, his back to the foe, shielding her with his body, and casting a Protective Charm as he Disapparated them away. The hiss of _Avada Kadavara_ left a hot trail by their heads as they disappeared into the darkness.

Moments later, they reappeared in a familiar room in the ancient, stone castle of Gavarnie. Thomas quickly unwrapped his arms from Elizabett's slight body, rapidly moving his hands over her, his eyes wild with concern. Elizabett could feel his heart pound even at several inches away.

"Are you all right? Are you hit? Gods, I didn't think Rosier would dare fire at us. But, I don't think he recognized you. Merlin's balls, if Grindelwald finds out you're in the Resistance. He already suspects that I'm protecting you," Thomas frantically babbled.

"I'm all right. I'm all right," Elizabett reassured as she gently and comfortingly placed her hands on either side of his face, holding him still, and gazing into his eyes. "You saved my life." She smiled at her friend.

Thomas took a deep breath of relief as the adrenaline began to subside, and slowly wrapped his arms around her again, drawing her close, not wanting to let go. It had been a close call. Still shaking, Elizabett slipped her arms around his waist in response, and placed her head on his chest, listening to his slowing heart. They stayed like that for a few moments, drawing strength from each other, and calming after the storm. And, as the moments passed, a pale pink aura began to form around the pair, a white shimmer around the aura, comfort and peace seeping into their being from a spiritual source, a source that had appeared since they were children, particularly when they needed each other the most.

As the calm took over, Elizabett's fingers tenderly stroked Thomas' spine, applying light pressure to his lower back, and she could feel him relax under her touch. His head shifted slightly, and his nose caressed the side of her face, pushing the hair away from her ear, his lips leaving a breathy trail that tenderly glided over her skin.

"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered with a constricted throat.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her first thought being that of Catherine. What had she been thinking? What if she had been killed? What would happen to her daughter? Albus was never around. Suddenly clutching onto Thomas, she absorbed the secure sensation thoroughly, melting into his embrace.

As they stood in the comfort of each other's arms, Thomas spanned his hands across her back, pulling her closer. She didn't retreat, and hearts began to race. Gradually, moving his nose from her ear to her cheek, Elizabett turned her head to accept his next move. Their lips met, and a bolt of electricity shot through their bodies spurring them on. Hungrily diving into each other, their hands clasped, gripping frantically onto each other in search of acceptance. Heat rose, and the pink aura darkened to fuchsia. They fumbled, and Elizabett backed into the wall, feeling Thomas' strong body press against hers while his hands clutched her buttocks, lifting her into his arms. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck, as his lips passionately moved from her mouth across her chin to the nape of her neck. Tipping her head back, she absorbed the glorious feeling. It had been so long since she had been wanted in such a way. Pressing her hard against the wall to keep her from falling, Thomas shifted his left hand between them to unbutton his trousers and apply pressure to warmth between her legs. She groaned with both pleasure and realization, then released her legs and slid back to the floor, breaking the kiss and lowering her hands to his chest, gently pushing him back.

"No, Thomas," she moaned stopping his hands at his waistband. "No," she whispered again, not able to look up.

He stopped, but his head remained down nearly resting on her shoulder. His eyes were squeezed shut, his breath short. He didn't move, frozen with disappointment.

Stepping away from the wall and to his left, Elizabett moved to the middle of the chamber, gently grasping his hand, and turning him with her. Standing face to face, she silently studied his features, remembering a lifetime of experiences shared. Thomas - the boy and man who always stood by her, always supported her. Thomas - the one who was always there, who never let her down. Thomas - her friend no matter what happened, the man who knew her darkest secrets and kept them safe. Reaching the finger of her right hand, she traced the disappointed tear that began to emerge from his still-closed eyes to his strong jaw line. Stepping close, she leaned to plant sweet kisses along the stubble until she reached his ear. Feeling the soft lobe on her lips, she whispered, "Slowly" as she began to unbutton the row of fastenings on his white shirt. His eyes creaked open with surprise, and he cupped her face lovingly, caressing her lips with his own, feeling the heat rise once again, but determined to take his time. She had finally accepted him, after all these years. His heart was ready to burst.

When the fastenings of the shirt were undone, Elizabett leisurely passed her hands across his chest, spreading the fabric to expose the toned muscle and fine layer of black hair. Leaning forward, she placed light kisses across his broad chest, daring to flick her tongue across an aroused nipple. She heard a sharp intake of breath and smiled. Running her hands around his waist, she slipped them under the waistband of his trousers, loosening them from the skin, and easing them over his hips. They dropped to the floor, gathering around his ankles. Pushing the shirt over his shoulders, it fell down his back pinning his arms behind him at the wrists. He was immobilized. Stepping back, her lips twitched up shyly as she slowly pulled her pale blue jumper over her head to reveal a silky, white camisole. Unbuttoning her trousers, she slipped the fabric down and wiggled out of them, toeing off her boots and kicking both the pants and boots aside. Standing before him in nothing but her undergarments, she took a step toward her trapped companion.

Thomas' breath was short, and his skin flushed. It wouldn't be difficult to release his hands, but he enjoyed watching her. He certainly hadn't expected this and was willing to let her take control…for now.

Reaching onto her tiptoes, Elizabett ran her fingers around the back of his neck weaving them into his thick, black hair and pulling him down to her level. Running the tip of her tongue along the underside of his rough chin to his lips, she allowed the silkiness of her top to brush against his hot skin. That was it. With a growl from deep within his chest, he ripped his arms from his shirt and simultaneously toed out of his boots and pants. Scooping Elizabett into his arms, he carried her to the ancient, four-poster bed, gently tossing her onto it. She languidly smiled up at him from the tattered coverings, and as he lay beside her, he reverently caressed her body, fingering the hardened nipples that tented the silky material. Watching him intently, she stroked her hand down his arm and over his hip to draw him to her.

And, thus, it began, their first encounter, the gentle wind that grew into an unbridled storm of passionate emotion. Years of restraint unleashed. It was glorious.

~~~***~~~

Hogwarts was quiet in the week before classes. Elizabett and Catherine arrived on the Monday morning to find Albus already there and waiting for them. As they entered, he met them at the door with a smile, taking their bags, while Catherine ran through the apartment and out the back door to the terrace. Although she loved being at Castlewood Manor, she had missed her home.

Albus placed a chaste kiss on Elizabett's cheek before returning to the kitchen to finish making their lunch. He was still quiet but seemed more relaxed.

"It's a lovely afternoon. Do you want to eat inside or out?" he called from the small counter as he sliced a tomato.

Elizabett's throat constricted. He was acting as if they had just seen each other that morning, as if he hadn't left her in a rage two weeks ago, as if there was nothing wrong in their relationship.

"Outside," she struggled to keep her voice steady. "Catherine has already beat us to the table." She moved her head in such a way to see out the large glass doors.

Albus tipped his head to follow her gaze, and twitched a small smile as he came around the counter with plates in his hands. "She's quite something, isn't she? When did she learn to do that?" he asked as he watched his daughter levitate a heavy watering can to give the thirsty plants a drink.

Elizabett gazed at her husband in surprise, tears burning in the corner of her eyes. "Last summer," she nearly croaked. Clearing her throat to cover the sound, she added, "At my parents'."

"Oh," was Albus' only response. Carrying the plates to the patio table, he lay them down to begin the meal.

After lunch, Catherine went to her room to play, while Albus and Elizabett quietly sat on the terrace. The silence was uncomfortable, neither wanting to speak first, but it was Albus who began.

"I suppose you heard. Paris has been liberated."

Heard? Of course, she'd heard. She was there, not that he would have noticed. "Yes, I heard. The devastation was quite something."

Albus nodded. "Nicholas and Perenelle's old home in the Tenth District was destroyed. Luckily, their other one was saved. They were a bit melancholy over the loss, but were pleased to have Paris back under French control."

"Mmm," was all Elizabet said as she sipped her tea.

"The Bois de Vincennes, near where we spent our honeymoon, was badly damaged. Such a shame. It was a beautiful place." He tried to stir a reaction from his wife, but there was another uncomfortable silence. "Elizabett, dear," he slowly began as she looked in his direction. Taking a deep breath, he plunged forward. "I had no right to snap at you the way I did. You have been patient and understanding, but so much has been going on. Make no mistake; I love you and Catherine deeply. And, I know I get distracted with my work." His brow furrowed in thought. "Will you forgive me?"

Elizabett gazed at him from across the table. Part of her wanted to immediately forgive him while another part wanted to scream, "no!" She was quickly processing the fact that here she sat, across from a respected, honourable man who worked hard to protect the Wizard world but whose neglect had thrown her into the arms and bed of another man. She felt ill.

"Understanding and patience can only go so far," she began her reply. "I love you, Albus, make no mistake of that, but you have a pattern of delving into tasks and projects without considering the repercussions on us." She shook her head. "That sounds so selfish considering the things you've done," she admonished herself. "But, there was a time when you looked forward to spending time with me. We would go out, do things, enjoy each other's company simply for that sake. There was a time when you would spend hours with Catherine, working on her powers, testing and measuring, but today, you didn't even noticed a skill that she'd had for a year." Elizabett wanted to cry. "Oh, Albus. Snapping at me was just evidence of your frustration. I understand the stress. I understand the pressure. I love the time we _do_ spend together, but I can't rely on you to be there when I need you. This is a marriage, not an independent study of strained living conditions."

Albus swallowed hard as he watched his wife. She was right. Grandmaman Lestrange was right. Nicholas was right. But, he couldn't give it up.

"Give me another chance," he pleaded. "The worst is over. Another school year is about to begin." He smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling hopefully. "I don't want to lose you." He reached across the table to place his hand over hers.

Elizabett's head shot up at his touch, and the hope she saw on his face crumbled her defences.

"Of course," she heard herself say.

~~~***~~~

Late that night, as she lay in bed with Albus' back to her, listening to his familiar snore, she stared up at the shadows on the ceiling, her thoughts drifting to another time, another place, another feeling, another man. Forgiveness. It was a two-way street only he didn't know that.


	50. 50 There's No Place Like Home

**50 – There's No Place Like Home**

The clock above the door silently ticked away the minutes to the end of last class of the week. The students finished their assignment, rereading, and making sure their names were on the top of the parchment. There was a shuffle as the papers were collected, and quiet chatter began. As the bell sounded, a group of seventh-year boys gathered around one table at the back of the room readying to leave.

"Should be an interesting night tonight," Urbus McNair grinned, his lips twisting wickedly to the left side of his face giving the hefty boy a lopsided appearance. "First meeting of the Slug Club. I wonder who Slughorn's invited this year?"

"I heard him say something about Mulciber in fifth-year. Seems the bloke has a talent for getting people to do exactly what he wants," Nott put in as he stood to leave.

"There should be plenty to talk about. The summer was eventful." McNair gathered his books to follow the others.

Tom quietly placed his supplies into his book bag and slung it over his shoulder. He had followed the summer's event faithfully noting Grindelwald's strengths and what he considered the weaknesses.

"Did you hear? The Dumbledore brat is staying at Hogwarts. I overheard Bagshot and Flaurance talking about volunteering some time to school her here." McNair lowered his voice but snorted scathingly as they left the History of Magic classroom.

"What? Too good to join a regular primary school with other kids?" Goyle added with distain.

"With only the fourth through seventh-years to teach, Castlewood only works part-time anyway. Dippet made sure that all her classes were in the afternoons so that she could home-school the little princess in the morning, except Fridays. I guess the schedule didn't fully fit the Headmaster's pet. Nothing like having things always go your way. You ever notice how she and Dumbledore always seem to do as they please and get away with it?" Nott insinuated as they headed down the dark, sloping corridor toward the Slytherin Common Room. "What about you, Tom? Castlewood and Dumbledore aren't your favourites. Got a thought?"

Tom shrugged to lift his bag higher onto his shoulder eyeing his classmates superiorly as if he knew something that they didn't. "Maybe they're afraid of something. With the girl out of the school, they can't keep an eye on her. Dumbledore does work for the Ministry. That's no secret, but exactly what does he do? No one says." He left his comment hanging and watched as the group processed the possibilities. Smothering a satisfied grin, he cleared his throat and gave the password before leading the way into the dungeon room.

~~~***~~~

"Are you sure you'll be all right? Pinky is here if you need anything, and I'm certain you can call on your mother if necessary," Elizabett fussed as she adjusted the bodice of her calf-length, navy blue dress. It was pencil thin and fitted neatly around her ribs.

"We'll be fine, Professor. Go. Have fun. Catherine and I are going to pop some popcorn and play a game." Eileen grinned proudly. The awkward thirteen-year old wasn't terribly popular with her classmates and was happy to spend the Friday night babysitting Catherine while the Dumbledores went out.

"Ready?" Albus asked as he entered the main room from the bedroom, straightening the front of his simple, Muggle suit.

Elizabett nodded. "I think I have everything." She rummaged through her purse.

"I'm sure you do, and if you don't, you won't need it." Albus grinned as he grasped Elizabett's elbow and gently led his distracted wife to the door. "Good night you two. Don't stay up too late." He playfully wagged a finger at his daughter.

Catherine giggled. "Ten o'clock, right?" The child grinned impishly.

"Eight," her father replied with a firm, forward tilt of his head.

"Good night, darling." Elizabett bent to hug her daughter good-bye. "Be good."

"Why do parents always say that? It's not like we're going to go looking for trouble." Eileen rolled her eyes.

Albus and Elizabett chuckled as the door closed behind them.

"Ten?" Catherine looked up at Eileen hopefully.

The babysitter looked toward the door, then at her young charge. "Nine, but only if your good."

"Why do people always say that? I'm not going to look for trouble." The child imitated her friend with a playful tease.

~~~***~~~

The violins eased the Friday night audience with their peaceful grace as the sweet notes filled the university chamber. Viola, then cello, joined in adding dimension to the growing string melody. This was the first concert of the school year for the University of Edinburgh's music department with last year's most popular String Quartet performing Mozart's _Viennese Quartet Number Ten in C Major_.

Albus and Elizabett had Apparated from the boundary gate to a convenient side alley beside Alison House, and joined the chattering crowd as they moved up the cement stairs and into the building. It had been a long time since they had been to a concert. When she was single, Elizabett had made it a habit to attend the monthly recitals. And, in the first year of their marriage, Albus had joined her, but as the years passed, life interrupted, and their visits became less and less frequent. When Albus made the invitation at Monday's dinner, Elizabett had been pleasantly surprised and excited. Neither was on duty that night, and her hopes were high. Life at home was slowly getting back to normal.

As the cello strung its last note, the gathering broke into appreciative applause, nodding and quietly commenting to each other. It had been a wonderful example of the music department's efforts, and the students puffed in pride at the ovation.

Standing to leave, the couple mingled with the other patrons heading toward the exit until Albus felt a hand land on his shoulder.

"What a surprise to see you here," a tall, husky man, whom Elizabett didn't recognize, acknowledged her husband with a broad smile.

Albus turned to face the newcomer, his face dropping slightly but quickly recovering with false pleasantry. "Utter, I didn't know you liked chamber music." He reached to shake the man's hand.

"Its all right. I'm always willing to try new and different things." Utter Longhorn spoke loudly but retained his grip on Albus' hand, pulling him a step closer. "I actually need to speak with you," he lowered his voice as his head bent forward slightly.

Albus looked over his left shoulder to his waiting wife. "Now?" Albus questioned. "This is not the appropriate time or place."

"It will only take a minute," the other man assured with an agreeable twist of his lips.

"I know your minutes, Utter. It never takes "a minute"." Albus gently pried his hand from the other man's grip.

Utter Longhorn, Director of the International Wizard Co-operation, drew to his full height matching Albus' tall stature, his demeanour becoming harder. "Surely you haven't forgotten the importance of what we do. You've had a long enough break. It's time to get back to work."

Albus turned to glance at Elizabett once more: she waited patiently, her face unemotional, letting him make his own decision. He drew a deep breath and steadily faced the Director.

"There is no way I can forget, not after what I've seen," he whispered to his colleague. "And, I _have_ gone back to work. School has only been in for a month. Do not forget, I'm a teacher and Deputy Headmaster. My duties are there. My work for the Ministry is secondary. Now, Sir, this is not the appropriate time to discuss these matters. My wife and I have plans, and we will be leaving now." He turned his back on the hardened man, grasping Elizabett's elbow, and purposefully steering her out of the building.

Elizabett could feel his tension, and he fairly fumed as they quickly strode down the steps and onto the street. Once they were half way across Nicolson Square, she eased back, slowing her pace, forcing him to slow down. Facing him, she placed a sweet kiss on his bristly cheek. He had had an opportunity to leave. They sought him out, and he had refused. _This_ was the devotion she had been craving from him. His stony expression of annoyance faded into a gentle smile as they resumed their walk at a more leisurely pace.

"Tea and crumpets?" Elizabett suggested as they approached a little teashop on the opposite side of the square.

Albus sighed lightly and nodded. "With raspberry jam," his voice was soft.

~~~***~~~

Somewhere in the dark distance, a bell chimed the late hour. It had been a lovely evening, one that had led into an even better night. Albus dreamily rolled onto his side feeling the gentle rise a fall of Elizabett's breathing as she slept. It was the first time in months that they had made love. Once he had walked Eileen back to her quarters, he returned to find Elizabett curled up on the sofa in her pyjamas humming the first movement of the quartet that they had just seen. She was so lovely, looked so innocent. His chest swelled for the first time in a long time, and as they sat in comfortable silence, her head tuck neatly against his chest, he felt a stir that he had nearly lost hope for. Rising and leading her to the bedroom, she had allowed him to take his time, unwrapping her from her nightclothes and leading her to bed, his fingertips timid and hesitant as they tenderly ran over her body. Her skin smelled of lavender, a scent that he had always found calming, and he lost himself in exploring the softness. Neither spoke, and as they reached their individual climaxes and eased back to themselves, they curled into each other's embrace and fell asleep.

Now, with the hourly chime signally two o'clock, Albus rolled onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling. The night had indeed been one to remember. Mozart's Viennese Quartets, especially tonight's _Number Ten in C Major_, had always been among his favourites, despite the fact that at certain points the music sounded distinctly like Haydn's _Opus Number Nine in B Flat_ and _Number Four in D Minor_…but who could fault musical genius. He smiled to himself, but the smile dropped quickly with the next thought. Utter Longhorn. The evening had almost been ruined by the appearance of the Director of International Wizard Co-Operation. Albus seriously doubted that Utter was there to "try new and different things". No. He was there to contact him. Albus had made a concerted effort upon returning to Hogwarts to focus his attention on the school and his family, and so far, he had succeeded. It's not that he had avoided the Ministry, not by any means, but the summer's events had taken a traumatic toll, and he needed time to recuperate.

He sighed and closed his eyes again, willing himself back to sleep. Utter had personally sought him out. He had interrupted the evening to speak with him, and had been brushed off. It must have been important. Albus had heard rumours about Grindelwald's latest endeavours and could feel the anger well within him. Abruptly swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to sit up, he hesitated as his sudden movement made Elizabett stir and grumble. Carefully standing, he replaced the covers over the now-vacant spot and crept out of the bedroom and into the living room, quietly closing the door behind him. Making his way through the darkness to the hearth, he knelt by the glowing embers and called for Utter Longhorn. Within minutes, a husky face with dishevelled, peppered hair, striped pyjamas, and tired eyes appeared.

"Dumbledore? What in the name of Merlin's ghost are you doing up at this hour?" the man whispered hoarsely.

Albus hesitated for a moment. What _was _he doing up at this hour? Was it really that important? "You said you needed to speak with me," he clearly stated into the flame. "I don't believe you were at the concert by chance. If you were willing to interrupt my evening, it must have been important. What is it?"

Utter looked away for a brief moment, then brought his attention back. Weighing his words carefully, he began. "I apologize for the interruption, and you were right, it wasn't the time or place, but we are in need of your expertise. The team has another task."

Albus felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach, and the bile rise into his throat. "What's Gindelwald up to now?" he questioned dejectedly.

"No good," was Utter's concise reply. "We need to meet. Tomorrow morning. It's already after two. Think you can be in my office by nine without raising much suspicion?"

Albus felt his jaw tighten. He had promised to take Catherine to the Quidditch tryout for the Gryffindor team. She loved watching the speed of the players, and had been looking forward to it all week, reminding him repeatedly each day.

"As long as I'm back by noon. I have other duties," Albus' reply was firm.

Utter nodded. "That shouldn't be a problem. See you in a few hours."

As Utter faded with the dying embers, the knot in Albus' stomach crept up into his throat. Utter's meetings were never short. He wondered what Gellert was up to this time.

~~~***~~~

"I knew he wouldn't make it! He's probably forgotten!" Catherine stomped her feet angrily as the lights in the apartment flickered with her rage. She threw her cloak onto the floor, pouting, and crossed her arms across her chest. "He promised, and he's not back yet!"

"It's only just turned noon." Elizabett tried to console her angry daughter. "He's not late yet. Beside, he explained where he was going, and that Mr. Longwind…I mean Longhorn, is always late. Your Daddy has been looking forward to bringing you to the tryouts today. I'm sure he'll be here soon."

Elizabett tried to make the situation light by purposefully mispronouncing the Director's name, but Catherine was too upset to notice. Climbing into the armchair to sulk, her small feet dangled over the edge. She sat there for a long time, refusing to budge even when Elizabett suggested that they leave a note for Albus and head to the Quidditch pitch anyway.

Twelve thirty passed, and eventually the clock in the tower struck one. Catherine still refused to move, and Elizabett's heart was ready to break. As the chime of the last bell faded, the door swung open, and Albus raced in, his face red with exertion from the run up from Hogsmede.

"Okay," he puffed as he tossed his satchel to the ground and placed his hands on the kitchen counter to catch his breath. "I'm here. I saw players still on the pitch. Let's go." He reached to grasp Catherine's hand as she dashed to grab her cloak. "Sorry I'm late, pet," he apologized as they dashed from the chambers.

"Did Mr. Longwind keep you for detention?" Catherine asked as they ran down the corridor.

Albus stumbled to a halt and gazed at his daughter in surprise, then burst out laughing. "Longwind? There's a good name for him. No dear, and it's nothing for you to worry about."

~~~***~~~

Wind whipped around the stands on the early October afternoon. Students from various Houses gathered in the seats to watch the Gryffindor team choose their players for the new season. As the candidates strutted onto the pitch, the captain gathered the group to give his instructions: two circuits around the perimeter then take the place in the air for the positions you're trying out for.

Brooms were mounted, and the players bolted into the air at a frantic pace, jostling for first position in what everyone, except the captain, thought was a race.

Various spectators ohh'ed and ahh'ed as a few close calls nearly brought players crashing to the ground.

Tom sat in the Slytherin stands with McNair and Mulciber, the sullen boy watching the others with a satisfied twist of his lips.

"Watch this." Mulciber discretely pointed his wand from under his cloak at a boy protecting the goal.

Suddenly, the boy in the air dodged out of the way of a charging bludger, his anger evident at the unexpected movement as he shook his broom.

"Good one!" McNair laughed as he clapped the fifth-year on his shoulder. "They'll never get a decent team together with us here."

"Which is highly unsportsman-like of you," a firm voice caught the boys by surprise. "As talented as you may be, boy, you must learn appropriateness. The Imperius Curse is forbidden for a reason, and if caught using it, you can be sent to Azkaban. I hardly think that is a place you wish to be."

"No, Sir," Mulciber obediently replied.

"I suggest you all make a timely departure, and allow Gryffindor House to chose their team. By the looks of things, they don't need your help in finding inept players," Professor Slughorn chuckled to himself as the boys grinned and stood to leave.

"Thank you, Sir." They dipped their heads as they quickly descended the steps.

Slughorn absently waved them off as he took a vacated seat.

From his perch high in the Slytherin stand, Horace Slughorn had a good view of the pitch and watched as the young Gryffindors whizzed by. Soon, his attention was drawn to the right as his old friend raced in with his daughter in tow. He snorted to himself. Whatever had happened over the summer had left Albus behaving very strangely. He was on edge, almost jumpy, and tried to over-compensate in his attention toward school and his family, as if he were trying to make up for something. Horace watched as they took their seats in the Gryffindor stand. He huffed inwardly at another thought. Elizabett seemed happy with the change, but she also seemed cautious, as if suspecting him to run off again on some secret mission. _Weren't they all secret missions?_ He snorted. Albus wasn't even telling _him_ what was going on and had refused to come to the dungeons since school began. Horace frowned. Before summer break, their friendship seemed to be regaining its old familiarity, but since they'd been back, Albus had pointedly avoided being alone with him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and popped another sweet into his mouth. _Bother._

As the last player landed on the pitch, the candidates gathered around the captain for the last set of instructions. Names of the team players would be posted in the Common Room by Sunday night. They left the area laughing and chatting loudly about the afternoon, recanting missed chances, silly moves, great saves, and fantastic passes.

Albus and Catherine had been able to catch at least an hour of the tryouts, and Catherine gleefully bounced around her father's legs as they headed back to the castle.

"Uncle Horace!!" she joyfully called as the Potions professor waddled down the last step of the stands. "This is the Gryffindor team. Why are you here?"

"Oh," he smiled at the youngster. "I like to see what the competition is up to." He playfully winked at her. "Are you going to play Quidditch when you get older?"

"I want to be a Seeker," she proudly announced, chin jutted forward. "_If _they let girls on the team by the time I get chosen to a House."

"And, what House do you want to be in?" Horace asked. "Gryffindor like your father, or Hufflepuff like your mother?"

"Ravenclaw." Her grin was priceless.

Horace's eyebrows rose as he eyed Albus curiously. "Why Ravenclaw? Because, you're so smart?" he teased.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "Mummy says that all Houses are smart, and that the Hat will chose because of what's inside of me."

"But, why do you want Ravenclaw?" Horace was curious now.

"Because, they have pretty colours," Catherine replied as if it were the most obvious answer.

Horace burst out laughing and shook his head. "Such a girl!" Noting Catherine's offended glare, he continued. "I'm sorry, child. I'm not used to dealing with a mind such as yours. If Ravenclaw is what you want, then I hope the Hat agrees with you." Turning his attention to Albus for the first time, he began, "I saw you rush in. Did you forget?"

"No, I had… other things to take care of." Albus caught himself before telling any details.

Horace "hmphed" at Albus' failure to disclose information and walked back to the castle with the pair in silence. Entering through the main doors, they stopped to bid each other "good-bye".

"You haven't been to visit in a long time. Why don't you come down tonight," Horace invited.

"Possibly. I'll see what Elizabett is up to," Albus replied without a second thought of really accepting the offer. He had been very uncomfortable around Horace since returning. In his mind, there was a fine line between Horace and Gellert on a personal level. It was simply a situation that he'd rather avoid at the moment.

~~~***~~~

The apartment was quiet, and the sun beamed through the living room window warming the early fall air.

Elizabett peacefully curled up on the sofa allowing the silence to infiltrate her tired mind.

Last night had been incredible. Albus had been the tender man she loved and had married. She accepted the fact the life changes, and thus, so do people. It was something that happened to everyone, but his changes had been so drastic over the past few years that she was beginning to wonder if she had been deceived by his thoughtfulness during their courtship. Now, with being back at school, his attention had been on his duties here and with his family. Only once or twice had he been to the Ministry. It was almost too good to be true. She never had a doubt about their friendship, but she was beginning to question their romantic relationship. She was thrilled to have his old self back.

Closing her eyes and tipping her head onto the back of the sofa, she began to drift serenely. Then, startling with a loud tap at the large glass door that led to the patio, she uncurled and stretched, toddling carefully toward the sound. On the other side of the glass, a familiar bird was butting his beak against the pane. Opening the door, the bird boldly flew in and landed on the kitchen table, dropping its letter into the fruit bowl before helping itself to a grape.

Elizabett's heart rose to her throat and an unconscious shiver ran through her as she approached the bird.

"Cheeky," she shooed the creature away from the bowl and gave it a treat.

Picking up the cream coloured envelope, she tore the edge open and slipped the letter out. Carefully unfolding the parchment, her hands shaking slightly, she read the note.

_Dearest Lizzie,_

_Edvard and I miss you and Catherine terribly. _

_Is there a chance that we can get the children together for Samhain?_

_Thomas_


	51. 51 A Lesson In Humility

**A/N -Happy Halloween! Happy Samhain!! **

**For those of you new to my writing, Samhain is pronounced "Sow-in".**

**Dani**

**51 – A Lesson In Humility**

"Well, that's completely ridiculous! Where would someone get an idea like that?" Agnes Prewett tossed her shock of vivid red hair over her shoulders and glared at the fourth-year class.

"Ridiculous or not, the Christian world strongly believes that Pagan religions are evil, and that Halloween is a day to worship the devil." Elizabett slowly strode up the center isle to the front of the class. "All faiths have a balance between positive and negative: the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Hindus, even Wicca and Druidry. However, the perception of evil, something that is not just negative but wicked and immoral, is truly a Christian concept. No other faith has a "devil", and yet, this group imposes that belief on others. Yes, there are negative deities, those that exist to create a balance in life for nothing can always be positive, but there is nothing that can be classified as "evil"."

"When I was home over the summer, I went to church with my Mum, and the vicar was going on about Pagan religions, because it was near Litha, the Summer Solstice, and there was a festival going on. He said that Pagans only honour three things: sex, violence, and greed. I couldn't believe the rubbish! My Dad's a Druid, and his main rule is to love and honour nature for it's the giver of life. You can't do that if you're violent or greedy." Portia Portelance's face flush with anger. "I just don't get it. Isn't there enough trouble in the world? Why add to it with stupid comments?"

"It's not stupid. It's ignorant," Elizabett began as she turned to face the class.

"Same thing," a boy in the back called out.

"Not really." Elizabett frowned. "Stupid implies that the person is dim-witted or slow. Ignorant means that they are uninformed, that they don't have the knowledge or information needed to understand. Many of you here are Christian." She absently pointed to the group. "It's dominant in the Western world. You celebrate Christmas and Easter, but you've also been exposed to and understand that there are other ways of believing. That's a good thing. You're more informed than most adults in the Muggle world. Now, how many of you, when you were little, went Trick or Treating?" She deftly changed the subject before it got too heavy.

About half the hands in the class shot into the air, and the chatter increased with a flurry of giggles. The other half looked around at their classmates with puzzled expressions.

"Personally, I've never experienced Trick or Treating," Elizabett admitted with a smile. "So, I had to do some reading about the ritual. It's quite interesting, and a lot of it is based in history. But, Muggles have twisted the stories to suit their own purposes. Samhain is quite different from what the Muggles think of Halloween. It's a religious festival to celebrate and honour our ancestors and what they've taught us. Halloween seems to be a night to worship candy." She grinned as the class rose in a cheer. "You're assignment…" The class groaned but continued to smile. "Write an essay, at least one parchment long. I want you to tell me… and eventually the class, how _you_ or your family celebrate either Halloween or Samhain. If you don't or haven't celebrated either, then do a little research, find out what the celebrations are all about. During the next class, we'll share our stories."

The bell rang with the last words, and the students filed out of the class, already swapping their favourite holiday tales.

Elizabett wearily rested her backside on the edge of her desk and folded her arms across her chest. The lesson had gone well. Samhain was only a week away, and the Hogsmede weekend was coming up. The feast itself would be on Halloween night. Funny, she snorted to herself, how a school of witches and wizards celebrated Halloween rather than Samhain. She was curious to know just how many knew about the Pagan faith.

~~~***~~~

The fire in the hearth warmed the cosy chamber. Dark mahogany and heavy upholstery added to the comfortable feel as an icy cold rain pounded the diamond framed windows on the west wall. The heavy cloud and gloom of late October was succeeding in penetrating the atmosphere of the room as Thomas sat in a brocade wing chair in front of the blaze. Staring blankly as the flames flickered and danced before his eyes, his mind passed over the events of the last two months. With the exception of one extraordinary event, they had not been pleasant. His eyes closed mournfully.

Grindelwald's falcon had arrived shortly after returning home from Paris, and Thomas' elated mood quickly vanished with what was to come next. He had been summoned - the first time in a long time. Rosier had obviously passed on the information about finding him in the alley with Elizabett. Fear had gripped him and all thought was on whether she had also been summoned. As usual, there was no time to contact her as his presence was required immediately.

Apparating in a hopscotch manner, as Elizabett had taught him, he arrived in Hungary late at night. Standing across from Grindelwald's decrepit, black and white manor, he waited a few minutes pushing all thoughts of his love from his mind, praying to the Goddess that Elizabett not feel what he was about to feel, that she not come rushing to his aid the way she had done months ago. He truly expected some sort of punishment, some sort of torture, and braced himself for it. Inhaling deeply to gather his nerve, Thomas raised his chin and strode purposefully across the cobbled street to knock on the chipped, black door. It didn't take long for it to swing open, and he was faced with two large wizards who roughly grabbed him and forcefully searched his body relieving him of his wand. They moved to his sides and harshly seized his upper arms, lifting him slightly from the ground, and dragging him into the study, throwing him at Grindelwald's feet.

From his prone position on the rich, plush carpet, Thomas quickly scanned the room. There were four others present. Grindelwald sat in his favourite chair by the fire immaculately dressed and whirling his grey wand between his fingertips. The two burly henchmen stood guard on either side of their master looking more like wax figures rather than powerful wizards. And, in the corner of the room, a man lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, obviously dead. There was no sign of Elizabett, and Thomas breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. Struggling to his feet, he was knocked back to the ground by an imperceptible flick of Grindelwald's wand. Thomas felt it wise to remain on his knees, presenting a submissive posture. It might earn him a few more minutes.

What occurred next happened so quickly it was a blur. Grindelwald ranted furiously, accusing him of siding with the Resistance, of betraying him, of not providing him with the information that he had been assignment to supply. He raged like a madman but curiously made no mention of Rosier's report. Had Elizabett not been seen? Had he managed to act quickly enough to get her out safely? Thomas' relief was momentary as _Crucio_ was cast at a furious rate. Blood began to ooze from his eyes, ears, and nose as he writhed on the pristine carpet, but all accusations were firmly denied, his mind completely focused on his work and his home as consciousness began for fade in and out. He couldn't give in now.

An unintelligible growl emerged from the frustrated Hungarian as Thomas lay crumpled on the floor, and as he raised his wand to cast a final curse, the study door opened, and Thomas could feel another person enter.

"Master," the voice strongly but cautiously began. "If he claims innocence, he's telling the truth. I can prove it."

Thomas could hear Grindelwald reply and a brief conversation take place, but he couldn't hold onto consciousness long enough for details.

He woke the following morning under a tree in a park on the north side of Budapest, his body racked with pain, and blood smeared on his face.

A log on the fire split and crackled snapping Thomas' attention back to the present. Leaning forward, he took the poker from the stand and rolled the log over, then leaned back into the chair.

It had taken a long time to recover, and his parents hadn't accepted his explanation for the injuries. They were suspicious but couldn't believe what the evidence seemed to be telling them. They chose to watch him carefully, and slowly he grimly eased back into his daily routine.

As September passed into October, his thoughts often drifted to Elizabett. He desperately wanted to get in touch with her, but knew that she had returned to her life at Hogwarts, to her husband, and as much as his heart ached, he felt that he had to give her space. However, when Edvard came to him earlier in the week, teary eyed and lonely, he couldn't resist the temptation to write. He missed Elizabett. He missed her smile, the blue of her eyes, and the tenderness of her touch. He missed the love and care that she showed for his son, the gentle encouragement she gave to him, her strength and conviction, her loyalty. He snorted derisively to himself. Her loyalty. As much as Albus had neglected her, as much as he dedicated his time to other things, she stood by him, holding true to her vows…except that once, that one time when they were so completely connected that he thought that she could truly be his. He sighed. She had written back. Her answer had been "no".

~~~***~~~

"Are we ready?" Elizabett called as she swung her cloak over her shoulders and fastened it at the neck.

"I am," Catherine answered as she finished tying her boots.

"Almost," Albus called from the study. "I just have to finish this last…"

"Finish later," Catherine interrupted with an angry frown as she stood in the doorway of her father's workspace, small hands on her hips. "We've waited an hour already."

Albus shuffled the papers on his desk and piled them neatly on the right hand side. "Demanding little imp, aren't you?" he said with a smile as he came around the corner of his desk and tweaked her nose.

Catherine brushed him off with her left hand. "I don't like that," she said with annoyance as she turned to rejoin her mother.

"Most of the seniors are already in the village. We were supposed to be there a while ago," Elizabett reminded her husband.

"Not to worry," he assured with a genially smile. "We'll be fine."

Opening the door for his family, they headed down the corridor and toward Hogsmeade and the pre-Halloween Hogsmeade Weekend that they had volunteered to chaperone.

~~~***~~~

Main Street was bedecked with orange and black banners, and magically coloured, ghoulish bubbles rose from the fountain in the Town Square. Students raced through the rainy mist anxiously visiting their favourite haunts. The Olde Village Sweet Shoppe on the north side of the square had a line up outside the door and part way down the street. Madam Puddifoot's, who usually hosts the best Valentine lunch in town, had a special Halloween treat for the young patrons and screams of laughter could be heard ringing through the air. There was even a line at the Simmer Cauldron when the Dumbledores finally arrived.

"Are you hungry yet, or should we wait for a while?" Albus cheerily asked as they stood outside the wooden structure.

"It's too crowded," Catherine grumbled. "We should have come earlier."

Albus bent to his daughter's level to talk to her directly. She had been moody and sulky all day, and he was getting a bit cross with it. "Sometimes we can't always get what we want when we want it. I don't just teach at the school, I'm Deputy Headmaster as well as Head of Gryffindor House. I had work that needed to be finished before we left. Can you understand that?"

Catherine looked coolly at her father and steadily replied, "I understand, but I don't like it. Now, all the places I wanted to go to are full."

"So, we wait. There's lot's of other things to do and see." Albus rose and reached for his daughter's hand. She hesitated for a moment then put her hand in his as they began to walk toward the bubbly fountain in the center square.

As the three sat on an ancient wooden bench watching the gruesome figures emerge from the frigid water, a group of seventh-year boys came into view from a side alley. Albus instantly took notice as they made their way down the street heading for the bookshop. There was something suspicious about their behaviour, nothing overt, but the hair on the back of Albus' neck began to prickle. He startled at a sudden touch on his shoulder.

"They're up to something," Elizabett quietly spoke as she tipped her head toward the group, her hand now resting on the back of the bench.

Albus's bright blue eyes held a tinge of grey as he turned to give a serious half nod to his wife. Suddenly grabbing Catherine's hand and giving it a squeeze, he put on a pleasant smile and said, "I might be able to wiggle my way into the Sweet Shoppe and pick up a treat. We can go back later when it's less crowded to have a better look. Why don't you and our Mum go to Gladrags, and I'll meet you there. What would you like me to get for you?"

Catherine thought for a moment. "Sherbet Lemons," she finally said with a sad sigh. "And, a couple of Chocolate Frogs."

"All right," Albus said as he rose and strode down the path in the direction that the boys had taken.

There was a moment of silence before Elizabett placed a loving arm around her daughter's shoulders to pull her close. "What's with you today? You seem so sad."

Catherine stared at the fountain, her bottom lip beginning to quiver. Finally, a big tear rolled down her cheek. "I miss Edvard and Uncle Thomas," she said quietly. "I haven't seen them in so long," she sniffed.

"Oh, Sweetheart." Elizabett gave her a gentle hug. "That's what happens when you live away from people you care about. Sometimes you don't get to see them for a while. Maybe at Yule," she suggested as she transfigured a tissue from a scrap of paper to dry the little girl's tears.

"Yule? That's so far away," Catherine cried harder. "I miss them now. Why couldn't they come today? Didn't you invite them?"

_Oh dear_, Elizabett thought. She thought she'd done the right thing by avoiding Thomas but had not considered how it would affect Catherine. Maybe she should have said "yes" to his letter. Obviously Edvard was feeling the same way. It was Elizabett's turn to stare into the fountain.

"No, I didn't," she replied apologetically. "I wanted a special day with you and your Daddy. At least the rain has stopped," she tried to change the subject, giving Catherine a cheery smile. "Come on. Let's go to Gladrags. Let's see what we can find."

Standing and pulling the child to her feet, Elizabett and her daughter walked hand in hand up the packed gravel path to Main Street. Turning left at the broom maker's, they slowly wandered to the clothing shop.

On the opposite side of the square, Albus had followed Tom and his friends to the bookshop and listened from an adjacent aisle as they secretly discussed a prank they intended to play: an experiment, they called it, involving Tom's special talent for getting animals to do as he wanted, and Mulciber's ability for convincing people to do as _he_ wanted. McNair chucked at the possibility while Goyle volunteered to stand watch.

"I think it's time you boys headed back to the school." Albus came around the corner of the stacks to confront the conspirators. "I think I've heard enough to warrant an investigation into your plan and stop you from doing anything that may be harmful to others and possibly get you expelled." He stood his full, imposing six-foot height, his authority clearly understood by the boys.

"We haven't done anything wrong," Tom respectfully protested.

"Yet," Albus replied firmly. "And, I would like to keep it that way. Tom, you're a bright boy, gifted. Your talents should be directed toward more positive actions rather than manipulation and pranks. Now, all of you, please do as I say. Go back to school. I'll send a message to the Headmaster and Professor Slughorn that you are returning. One of them will be expecting you."

Albus watched as the boys left the shop, Goyle and McNair grumbling under their breath, but he missed Mulciber's muttered comment to Tom. "He'll get his."


	52. 52 Best Friends

**A/N - Better late than never. Have a good one.**

**Dani**

**52 – Best Friends**

The late November sleet struck the glass window that looked out toward the greenhouses, leaving the pane covered with thick, wet ice. It was not a pleasant night, and the week's miserable weather had kept everyone inside and cranky.

Albus sat in his favourite chair, the only light being that of the dying fire on the hearth. It was late, and Elizabett had already gone to bed. Staring blankly at the embers, he gently fingered the fine gold chain in his hand. Years ago, when Armando had given him the devise, he had made a promise to himself not to use it, a promise he had kept until the past few months. It had been hidden in the far reaches of his sock drawer, where he checked it every now and then, resisting its temptation. There were times when he thought the string was tied differently or it was not exactly in the same place where he had left it. But, he had dismissed the notion, considering that the shifting garments in the confined space had simply moved it, or that Elizabett had seen the small, black, velvet pouch and had been curious as to what was inside.

However, with all that had happened, he could no longer resist and had begun to use the Time-Turner on a regular basis. At first, it was a great help. He was able balance his time more effectively between his family, his duties as Deputy Headmaster, teaching, and the young Gryffindors charged to his care. He was also able to relive parts of his day or night when he was required to leave on Ministry business, hiding the fact from his wife. After all, Elizabett seemed so pleased that he was spending more time with them and less time at the Ministry, especially since the summer. There was no need for her to know any different.

But, as time passed, his initial fears were validated. Having more time available merely meant having more time to fill. Slowly, the average twenty-four hour day, became twenty-eight or thirty hours. There was even a time in early October, when Utter Longhorn had called him into the Ministry for a special task, that the "day" was virtually fourty-eight hours long. He had had to re-live nearly the entire time period to avoid missing the Gryffindor tryouts with Catherine. As such, he had barely gotten back to Hogwarts in time, and once in bed that night, had slept well into the next day.

Albus examined the delicate hourglass in his fingertips, frowning slightly. He was tired: physically tired from doing so much, mentally tired from having to balance his stories with Elizabett and Armando, tired of always having someone depend on him for something. People were always demanding things of him, even as a child – first his mother, then his orphaned family, then Gellert, the school, the Ministry, Elizabett, Catherine. He scrubbed his hands over his face in frustrated exhaustion. Hogwarts used to be his sanctuary, but even when he did venture into the lab these days, Horace trotted after him like a neglected dog. And, Elizabett used to be his quiet solace, his enduring support, but since the summer, something had changed, with him? With her? Maybe both. All she had ever wanted was him and used to be content with whatever time he could afford her, but lately… He sighed heavily and sank deeper into the chair. Even Catherine was dismissing him these days. She seemed to accept his comings and goings as a normal part of her life. After all, there was a war on and even though she was too young to understand the full ramifications of that, she understood that Daddy was doing something to help. But lately, she didn't seem to care whether he was there or not. She no longer ran to the door when he came home.

He looked at the instrument in his hands. If only he could spin it back to when she was a babe. What would he have done differently? He snorted to himself. Probably nothing. She was his gem. But, there were other things? If he really wanted to change his life, he'd spin it all the way back to his youth. He'd stop that fight that killed his sister. No, he'd go even further. He'd stop those boys from tormenting her into an unstable state, an event that triggered so many other tragedies. Albus fisted his hand around the device and made to throw it across the room. Abruptly stopping himself, he lowered it back to his lap and began to cry, hopeless sobs that ended as quickly as they had begun. If only he could change history. But, no, he knew he couldn't. It would do no good. He shook his head. He just couldn't do it anymore. Time had to play itself out, and he had to deal with it.

~~~***~~~

"_Her name was Sadie McFady._

_She lived in Dolson Green._

_She was a very fine lady,_

_The best ya'd'ever seen._

_One day a feller came callin',_

_A brassy bit'o'lad,_

_An' Sadie, she was a fallin',_

_For the shine the feller had._

_The feller bowed to Sadie,_

_An' kissed 'er 'and so sweet._

_An' Sadie, bein' the lady,_

_Was swep' right off her feet._

_He took her out to dinner, _

_An' poured 'er lot's o' wine._

_He thought he was a winner._

_She sure was feelin' fine._

_She danced upon the table,_

_An' sang a cocky song,_

_An' when he was able,_

_He kissed her hard and long._

_The folks, they never saw a sight,_

_As brazen such as that._

_For Sadie din' put up a fight,_

_She started …"_

The rusty, tenor voice came to an abrupt halt as he noticed the small audience listening from the icy path that he had been chipping at.

"Whatch' doin' 'ere?" Hagrid cleared his throat covering his embarrassment.

The girls giggled.

"That was a funny song." Eileen smiled at the bushy, half giant. She had always liked Hagrid. As odd as he was, he was gentle and kind. She would never believe the accusations that had been made against him. "We were going to go sliding on the paths, but you're cleaning them off."

"I, umm…" A light pink flushed high on Hagrid's cheeks. "Las' week's sleet made um too slippy. Ya kids were fallin' too much and gettin' hurt. So, yer mum said they 'ad ta be cleared off." He pointed a fluffy mittened hand toward the gawky, dark-haired teen. "If yer really careful, there's a spot on the bank over by them trees that's not trod on yet. It be good for slidin'." He jerked his head toward a not-to-steep slope near the Care Of Magical Creatures compound. They could slide nearly all the way into the frozen-over garden.

"Professor Kettleburn won't mind?" Eileen asked timidly.

"Heck, no," Hagrid snorted pleasantly. "There's nothin' growin' there now anyway. It'll be fine."

With a smile and a wave over her shoulder, Eileen grabbed Catherine's hand, and the pair half slipped and half ran to the other side of the compound to have a little fun.

The afternoon passed quickly, and their laughter could be heard ringing over the frosty meadow as the girls took turns sliding and rolling down the slippy slope.

Taking a rest at the bottom of the hill, Catherine rolled onto her back and moved her arms and legs against the ice.

"Lannie. There's not enough snow to make snow angels," she called to her friend.

Eileen scooted down the slope on her backside and slipped into place beside the smaller girl. Laying on her back and gazing up at the heavy-clouded, grey sky, she wiggled against the ground feeling the ice crack.

"It's there. It's just under the ice. But, you need good, fluffy, fresh snow to make good angels," the older girl said matter-of-factly. "Mum said that it's supposed to snow tonight. I suppose that's why Hagrid has to get the ice off the paths."

"Why would that matter?" Catherine asked imitating Eileen's wiggle to try to break the ice under her.

The older girl turned her head to look at the Catherine. The little girl was like the sister she never had, and she felt important imparting her wisdom to the younger child.

"Well, when the snow falls on the ice, you won't me able to see it, and it makes it more dangerous. You could fall. At least when you see the ice, you know to be careful." Eileen turned her head to look up at the sky again feeling satisfied with her logical answer.

Catherine seemed to approve as well for she was silent for a moment. "Lannie," she finally began again. "Do you ever miss your Daddy when he's away?"

Eileen rolled onto her side and propped her head up with her mittened hand. "No. I live in Slytherin House. I don't see him much anyway."

"Did you miss him when you lived at home?" Catherine continued, staring up at the overcast sky.

"I suppose I did at first, but he wasn't around most of the time anyway. I guess I just got used to him not being there. He's working to stop Grindelwald, and that's really important." Eileen sounded proud but melancholy.

"Is Grindelwald _really_ bad?' Catherine's innocence shocked Eileen.

"The worst. They say he's the darkest wizard of our time. He's twisted and gnarled, with a big, warty nose, and crooked, yellow teeth. They say he reached into a man's chest one day and ripped out his heart with his bare hands, then ate it while it still beat. They say it happened so fast that the man was still alive and watched as Grinedlwald ate his heart."

"That's disgusting!" Catherine rolled onto her stomach twisting his face in distaste.

"They say he's completely mad, that's why he has to be stopped." Eileen felt quite pleased with her description.

"Do you think that's what my Daddy is doing? He never says. If he's not at school, he's away," Catherine's voice was sadly quiet.

"I don't know. Do you miss Professor Dumbledore when he's away?" The older girl asked.

Catherine said nothing for a moment. "Sometimes, but not as much anymore. Sometimes I just get mad. Is that bad to say? Sometimes I think that he's to busy to love me."

"No, it's not bad to say. Sometimes I feel like that too. You know, you can talk to me anytime. I won't tell anyone."

The girls faced each other for a moment. It didn't matter that there was six years difference in their ages. They were friends and nothing would change that.

~~~***~~~

"Albus has been quiet lately, more so than usual. Is everything all right between you two?" Bathilda poured the steaming tea from the ornate, little pot into two china cups.

Elizabett smiled wistfully as she blew on the hot liquid. She'd been thinking the same thing lately. He seemed more preoccupied than usual, almost sad. She didn't quite know how to respond to Bathilda's question, and her pause didn't go unnoticed.

"I don't mean to pry, dear. I care about you, and you seem rather unhappy as well these days. If there's anything I can do… " Bathilda continued as she reached a kindly hand toward her friend.

Elizabett took a tentative sip of tea and replaced the cup back to the saucer. "To be honest, I don't know what the problem is, or even if there is one. I know Albus loves me, and I love him, but there just doesn't seem to be…" Elizabett bit her bottom lip, somewhat embarrassed with what she almost said.

"The same spark," Bathilda finished for her with a knowing glint in her eye.

Elizabett nodded. "We enjoy each other's company, when do spend time together. He's been making a big effort since the summer. But, I no longer feel the…anticipation of being with him. We're comfortable with each other, but…" She shrugged slightly and shook her head not knowing how to continue.

Bathilda nodded slowly as if in understanding. "The warmth has gone from the sheets, has it?"

Elizabett shot her head up to gaze at the bluntness of her friend. Flushing faintly, she replied, "Stone cold."

"I've known Albus a long time. To be honest, I was surprised, and don't get me wrong, pleased, when you two got together. But, oh, how do I say this? Albus has a kind heart, but he just doesn't like to let people in. He's all work. I know he's tried, and I know there have been moments, but I've seen you wait endless times for the few scraps that he sends your way. More so in the past years than in the beginning." Bathilda took a long sip of tea fearing that she had overstepped her bounds.

"I don't know what to do?" Elizabett could feel her throat constrict. "We _are_ friends. I would never jeopardize that. But, for a marriage, there should be more. You know, he thinks I don't notice when he sneaks out, sometimes during the night. I can only assume he's doing something for the Ministry, and he doesn't want me involved or to worry."

"You need to mentioned it to him. Tell him that you want to know," Bathilda ordered. "He made a commitment to you, and he has to be accountable for his actions. Now, don't give me that look." The older woman flipped a withered hand as the younger woman made to oppose. "You say that you two still love each other, but he keeps secrets. What kind of love is it? The love between a husband and wife? If so, then there should be trust and a bit of fire there, a commitment to each other's happiness. The love between friends? Then, maybe it's the comfort of companionship, but then, you're missing the intimacy needed for a marriage." She paused for a moment. _In for a penny, in for a pound,_ she thought. "Is there someone else?" she shrewdly asked. "You and Thomas always seemed to be…close. And, you were very happy when he _was_ around. I haven't seen him lately." Her eyes narrowed slightly at the younger woman.

Elizabett felt her stomach flutter so hard that a shiver was sent up her spine. Her face involuntarily flushed a deep crimson.

"Oh, Sweet Merlin," Bathilda breathed. "I knew it. I saw it coming. How long has it been going on?" she asked.

Elizabett shook her head, ready to cry. "It happened once, during the summer." She knew she couldn't tell the whole circumstance surrounding the event, but she could allude to certain instances. "He would bring his son to visit Catherine when she was at my parents' home. Albus and I had some time alone here and thought that things were on the mend, but he still couldn't get…physical."

"How long had it been?" Bathilda's curiosity got the better of her.

"Months," Elizabett sighed. "Thomas and I just enjoyed being together. We've known each other our whole lives. His marriage was dissolved in the spring, and he needed a friend to talk to, to listen. That's all it was." Elizabett tried to convince herself.

"A friend…" Bathilda baited.

"During the summer, Albus was away, and when he came back, he was…different, distant, self-absorbed. Whatever happened had been tragic. One night in August, we had a fight, and he left. Thomas and I just…were draw together. We didn't mean for it to happen, but it did. Weeks later, I finally got a message from Albus saying that he'd meet me at school, and that we had things to work out. Thomas knew that I would be returning to my husband. He's been graceful enough to give me my space."

"He hasn't contacted you at all?" Bathilda was surprised.

"Once, at Samhain. He said that he and Edvard were missing Catherine and I, and asked if we could get the children together."

"I take it you said "no"?"

Elizabett nodded sadly. "I have to confess, though. I miss him, too. So does Catherine."

"She said so?"

Elizabett nodded again.

"Oh, dear. We have a problem."

~~~***~~~

The end of the week came quicker than Albus had hoped, and the knot in his stomach was growing infinitesimally. He knew what he had to do. He couldn't keep going on the way he was.

At least a couple of times a week, he and Elizabett had dinner at the High Table with the staff, while Catherine and Petite delighted in having a bit of time to themselves. Tonight, however, the beef stew with bread biscuits just didn't have the same appeal, and he pushed the food around his plate staring into the gravy as if it held all life's answers.

"Is there a problem with the food?" Professor Merrythought leaned toward his colleague.

Albus was quiet for a moment, then twitched a small smile. "I don't have much of an appetite tonight."

"Madam Prince said there's a stomach bug going around. Maybe you've caught it," Merrythought said as he involuntarily leaned away.

"Maybe," Albus replied as he looked toward Elizabett. "Are you almost done, dear?" he asked as Elizabett finished her main course.

Puzzled, she gazed at him. "You look pale, and you haven't touched your dinner. Are you ill?" Albus was silent. "Do you want to go?" she asked as he nodded in response.

Excusing themselves for the table, the couple made their way down the steps toward the antechamber and out the side entrance. Silently and slowly, they walked through the nearly empty hallway, a definite uneasiness between them. Tenderly taking Elizabett's hand in his, he headed past the corridor that led to their chambers and began to climb the main stairway. At first, she thought they were going to the Hospital Wing, but then he veered right and headed toward the changing staircases.

Elizabett's lips twitched. _What did he have planned?_

When they reached the seventh floor, Elizabett's demure smile turned to a broad grin. The Room of Requirement was just ahead. _What did he have up his sleeve?_ She felt her heart thud in her chest, but at the last moment, he turned down an adjacent corridor leading toward the east tower – Gryffindor domain. He still held her hand in his, but it was slowly becoming clammy.

"What's going on?" she finally asked as they rounded into an open corridor on the southeast side, the cold blast through the glassless windows making her shiver. She remembered this area and was becoming very curious.

Finally stopping before a familiar door, Albus gave the password, and the unassuming entrance creaked open at his command. Giving it a push and ushering Elizabett in, he closed it behind her. It had been a long time since she'd been here, but it was obvious that Albus had visited more recently. A flick of his wand had the fire lit, and another flick had the lamp on the worktable glowing. Books and papers were scattered in small piles throughout the room. Storage boxes were stacked against the outer wall. Finally, he turned to her, running his hands from her shoulders to her wrists, and stepping forward to tenderly kiss her forehead.

"I love you," he whispered hoarsely as he drew her into a hug.

Elizabett wrapped her arms around his waist to return the embrace. "I know you do. I love you, too. What's this all about? Why are we here?"

There was silence, and Elizabett could feel Albus' heart pounding. Pulling back, she sensed such an ominous feeling that she felt ill.

"Albus. What's going on?" Her voice shook from nerves.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, Albus raised his eyes to hers. They held no sparkle, no shine.

"I have moved my things here. I will be staying in my old chambers for a while. I need time, space, to get myself back on track. You know that I haven't been myself, and it's affecting everything I do. I thought that if I removed myself from a few things, that maybe…"

Elizabett felt her head reel, and she recoiled as if hit in the stomach.

"You're leaving me?" she sputtered in quiet disbelief. "You just said you loved me. Albus?"

"I do love you. You have been an incredible part of my life. That's why I'm hoping that you'll understand. I can't take the pressure anymore, and it's not fair to you or Catherine. I need to lessen the load," Albus tried to explain.

"Pressure? Lessen the load?" Elizabett's temper was on the rise. "Are we a burden in your life? Good Gods, Albus! I've done everything I could to be understanding and supportive. I've given you space for your experiments, for your work with the Ministry, for your visits with Nicholas…What more do you want? You say you love me, but how can that be if I'm such a burden?" The fire in the heart sparked and crackled with her obvious pain.

"I do love you. More than I ever expected I could. You're not a burden. It's that I have so much going on, that I can't handle it all," Albus tried to clarify. "I need a break from something."

"So instead of relying on someone who has stood by you, someone who loves you, you turn away from me. You have a strange way of showing your care, Albus Dumbledore." She strode away from him and toward the hearth. "This has something to do with what happened this summer, doesn't it? You never told me what. I figured you would when you were ready. But, I get this instead?" She spun to face him, and could see the turmoil in his expression. "Your right. You need time to think things out, to discover what your priorities are. It looks like you have all of your things already? When did this happen?" She angrily spread her hands toward the half open wardrobe that held his selection of work robes.

"During dinner," he replied softly. "I had a house elf move them while we were in the Great Hall?"

Elizabett gasped. "You did this while Catherine and Petite were in the apartment? What were you thinking?" she yelled.

"I made sure that the elf wasn't seen."

"And, do you plan to tell Catherine that her father will no longer be living with us, or were you going to leave that up to me?" Elizabett raged, her hands sharply on her hips.

"I would like the two of us to do it together. I want her to understand that I'm not abandoning either of you. I'll still be here if you need me. I just won't be living with you."

"For a while or forever?" Elizabett questioned angrily.

"Don't know," Albus answered honestly. "It breaks my heart to do this, but for my own mental stability, I can't keep up with everything. You've always been a friend first. I was counting on you to understand."

"You know, Albus." Elizabett began to deflate. "The sad thing is, I think I do understand. I don't like it. I don't like that you're giving up your family before any of your duties, but I've watched you grow more and more unhappy, and I've been at a loss of what I could do for you. Maybe this is what you need. I hope it helps." Tears began to roll down her face, lead filling her stomach.

Albus took two large strides forward and enveloped the small woman in his large embrace. Holding onto each other tightly, they cried. Then, letting go, Elizabett wiped her face with the back of her hand and slowly backed to the door leaving Albus standing alone wiping his own face with the edge of his sleeve.

"When shall we tell Catherine?" Her question was barely a whisper.

"Do you think now would be wise?" His voice matched hers.

Elizabett nodded, and he joined her as they left his old quarters in the wizard's wing to attend to their daughter.

~~~***~~~

The half moon struggled to peer through the clouds that dominated the midnight sky. It had been an uncomfortable evening, restless and agitated. Finally giving up and turning in, even the sheets didn't seem to want to cooperate, getting tangled in his feet. Throwing the covers back, Thomas paced to the window to gaze across the darkened expanse of his parents' home. Something was wrong. He focused his thoughts on the feeling, and Elizabett instantly came to his mind, curled in her bed, her pained sobs racking her small frame, heartfelt sorrow emanating from her soul.

Thomas' temperature rose as his anger welled. His first instinct was to immediately get dressed and go to her aid, but he thought twice of it and slumped into an upholstered wind chair in the corner of the room. Closing his eyes, he sent every ounce of comfort he could in her direction, and prayed that she could feel it.

_What had Albus done now?_


	53. 53 Putting The Pieces Together

**A/N - Good morning. Short but sweet. Have a good one.**

**Dani**

**53 – Putting The Pieces Together**

Catherine took the news of her parents' separation much better than Albus or Elizabett had thought, and the following weeks saw a marked difference in the atmosphere at home. There was no anger, just a sense of sadness, and at times, a feeling of…relief. Albus visited on occasion, but never stayed for long. He seemed calmer, and Elizabett saw him smile for the first time in months. He made no mention about returning home, and seemed to enjoy the freedom of being on his own. Elizabett saw her marriage slipping away, but an old friendship returning. Maybe that's all they were meant to be. Friends.

When Catherine's birthday arrived, Albus showed up early and stayed for the entire party. All of the guests were aware of the situation, and even the sceptical noted the odd comfort between the two. There was no animosity. They even joked about who was going to get the bigger piece of cake – Catherine or Albus. Catherine won, of course, but shared her ice cream with her father. The family enjoyed that day, but it would be the last for a while.

With Yule approaching, Elizabett issued an invitation for Albus to join them at her parents' home, but he declined. He intended to be out of town. But, plans were made to have Christmas at the apartment.

~~~***~~~

Thomas stood in the center of the foyer, his back to the sitting room, his face to the crackling fireplace. It had been a quiet evening. Him and Edvard, his parents, Dogma Black and his wife, the Castlewoods, Elizabett and Catherine, that was all. Yule used to be a grand event at Castlewood Manor. Many pure blood families would gather for the evening, but over the years, the circle had fallen apart. The Malfoys and Rosiers had made obvious ties with Grindelwald, which ostracized them from most Wizarding social circles. Even those who secretly agreed with the dark wizard's philosophies would not openly jeopardize their reputations. Others had simply died out, moved on, or had begun to do as they were doing tonight, having only the closest of family and friends together.

Thomas smiled to himself. It was good to have Elizabett and Catherine home. The children took to each other immediately upon their arrival and played endlessly throughout the evening. Elizabett seemed a bit lost without Albus, but at the same time, seemed to be more relaxed. They had spoken only briefly at Catherine's birthday party a week ago, and his heart leapt at the news of her separation. For all outward appearances, it seemed that Albus and Elizabett were still good friends. They actually appeared content with the situation. Thomas couldn't understand. His break up with Kalina had been nasty, to say the least. How could anyone remain friends after a marriage had gone bad? He shifted as he gazed into the flames.

"There you are," Elizabett's cheery voice rang from the archway of the sitting room. "I was wondering where you had disappeared to. What are you doing?" She joined him in the foyer.

"Waiting for you." Thomas tipped his head over his left shoulder. His dark hair falling into his eyes as an impish smirk grew on his lips.

"Really?" Elizabett grinned as she approached. "And, what made you think that I'd come looking for you?"

Thomas turned to face her, a light pink glow radiating from his body. "I just knew you would," he said quietly.

They smiled at each other for a moment.

"The children are getting tired," she announced. "I was thinking we could put them to bed here, and you could take Edvard home later."

"Sounds like a plan." Thomas took a step closer, the smirk twisting his lips into a mischievous smile. "Are you trying to keep me here?"

Elizabett shook her head lightly. "You're incorrigible," she laughed.

"I'm in love with you and will no longer hide the fact," Thomas quietly stated.

"I'm still married. You cannot deny _that_ fact." Elizabett tipped her head to the left and raised her eyebrow at her friend.

"True, but I think that marriage is over. I think it's been over for some time, and you two are just acknowledging it now," Thomas ventured to say. "I know you still care about each other. For the life of me, I can't understand why. But, it's time to move on. I love you, Lizzie. I always have, and I always will. You and Catherine mean more to me than I could possible voice, and I would be completely devoted to the two of you." He took another step closer and ran his fingertips gently up her sleeve. "Tell me you love me, Lizzie." His eyes glowed a radiant green.

Elizabett could feel her skin flush and a quiver take over her body. She couldn't deny it, but the words couldn't come from her mouth. Meeting him in the center of the foyer, she wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest, and was enveloped in the warmth of the pale pink aura. Tipping her head up, their lips met in a sweet kiss.

"Eewww," they suddenly heard from across the room. "I don't know why grown ups hang that silly plant. It makes them do icky things." Edvard and Catherine emerged from the reception room. Edvard's distaste for mistletoe was comical.

Thomas and Elizabett pulled back slightly and smirked at each other then they suddenly broke apart and dashed to grab the children, playfully scooping them into their arms and smothering them with quick, loving kisses. Elizabett held Edvard close as he struggled to get away, and Thomas held Catherine as their peels of laughter drew the attention of the other guests who appeared from the sitting room to see what the commotion was all about.

Finally lowering the children to the ground, Thomas instructed them to say "good night", and go upstairs to wash up for bed. He would be up shortly to transfigure a bed and pyjamas for Edvard in Catherine's room. Laughing, the pair raced up the black and white stairwell, and the slam of a door was heard as they reached their destination. Thomas and Elizabett made to follow stating that they'd be back when they children were settled.

The others watched as the couple slowly ascended the stairs, talking peacefully together. Maude held her hand to her chest, a dewy tear glimmering on her lashes.

"What's wrong, my dear?" Merrick asked his wife, while their friends watched with concern.

Maude dabbed the corner of her eyes with a delicate handkerchief. "Please don't get me wrong," she directed toward Marceilla and Julius. "I do like Albus very much, and feel for their situation, but I do love to see Thomas and Elizabett together with the children. It makes my heart swell. I have always wanted Elizabett for a daughter, and hope that now it might happen."

Marceilla reached to wrap her arm around her closest friend. "You may be right," she smiled demurely as the couple disappeared on the upper landing. "Give it time."

A spare pillow was successfully transfigured into a small bed for Edvard while an old shirt left from the summer was made into pyjamas. With the children washed and tucked under the covers, Catherine asked Elizabett to read one of the storybooks from her small collection on low shelf by the wardrobe. As Elizabett sat on the edge of her daughter's bed, she felt a nudge at her right elbow as Edvard climbed over her lap and into bed beside his friend, snuggling into the comfort of the warm sheets. Thomas smiled as he sat on the end to listen with the rest.

Opening the book and showing the sketched pictures to the children, Elizabett began. "Once, a very long time ago, there was a young sorcerer named Merlin. He lived in a time when myth and magic ruled the land…" Her voice was quiet and low, mesmerizing the tired children, and before long their heads drooped, and their eyes began to close. As Elizabett continued, she looked over at the dozing youngsters, and then to Thomas, feeling a warmth that she couldn't recall ever feeling before. "… and Merlin's power became a source of strength and comfort to all," Elizabett finally finished.

Looking up as she closed the book, Thomas smiled tenderly at her, then silently rose to lift his sleeping son from Catherine's side. While Elizabett pulled the covers to her daughter's chin and kissed her "good night", Thomas did the same with Edvard. Then, they traded places, Thomas kissing Catherine's forehead, and Elizabett kissing Edvard.

As Elizabett began to pull away, Edvard's sleepy eyes fluttered open slightly, and a tiny voice emerged. "Aunty Lizzie?" he called.

"Yes, my love," Elizabett whispered, bending to the child, their faces only inches apart.

"Will you be my mummy?" His small hand gripped her fingers as she leaned to kiss him again.

"I can't say," Elizabett quietly replied.

"Why not?" Edvard sleepily croaked.

"It's complicated," Elizabett answered as she pulled the covers closer to his face. Placing her right hand over his eyes, she whispered, "sleep", and the conversation ended.

Blowing out the lamp, Thomas waited for Elizabett at the door and wrapped his arms around her.

"It's something to think about." His smile was hesitant and hopeful. "But, I know, it's complicated." He rolled his eyes. Then, gazing deeply into hers, he continued, "But, I'll wait…for as long as it takes…"

~~~***~~~

Gusts of snow whirled in small torrents at the street corners, and the early darkness that fell in this part of the world cast grim shadows against the bleak, thatched-roof structures. You would never know it was Yule, just a few days before Christmas. The streets were devoid of life and colour. There were no festive decorations, no brightly light shop windows. Not even a dog rummaged for scraps in the tiny mound of rubble that lay behind what appeared to be the inn.

Albus stood in the flickering lamplight, pulling his cloak tightly against his body, and considered casting another warming spell to fend off the bitter wind. This is not where he wanted to be, but the message had been clear and insistent. Bracing himself, he stepped forward onto the barren street and crossed to the rundown tavern. Pushing the thick, panelled door open, there was a sharp shout from the bartender to close it quickly. Albus slipped in and shook the snow from his coffee-coloured cloak, keeping the hood over his head. Finding a vacant table in the far corner, he sat with his back against the wall and waited. He was a bit early. The instructions had said eleven o'clock. He ordered a shot of Firewhiskey and downed it in one gulp, gritted his teeth as it burned. He _really_ didn't want to be there.

Another blast of cold had the bartender shout again as the front door opened to admit another patron. The figure was tall, all features concealed by its massive, charcoal cloak. The figure stood by the closed doorway, scanning the scene before stepping in and heading toward Albus. It pulled up a chair and sat heavily across from the Transfiguration Professor.

"I'll be brief," a man's voice tried to hide a familiar accent. "You have investigated the Lestranges and Castlewoods, and have found a house divided. Do not be deceived. They are not as divided as you may think. There is a common ground." The man paused as the barman came for his order, but he was waved off before he got too close. "Our blonde friend is planning something big, something that he knows will attract you. You _will_ be drawn to it. Be warned. Don't go. It's a trap."

"Do you know what he's planning?" Albus leaned forward slightly appearing as if he was merely shifting in his seat, but intent on the man in front of him.

The man shook his cloaked head slightly. "He never lets anyone know the complete plan. But, I do know that vigilance is required. Do not follow his path, no matter what happens." He paused for another moment as if considering his next words. "Your wife is very capable of taking care of herself and your daughter. Do not be fooled by her meek presence. Let her do what she must."

"My wife? What does my wife have to do with this?" Albus was taken aback.

The figure was silent and furtively glanced around the room. Raising his hands, he pushed the hood away from his face, just enough for Albus to see.

Albus gasped.

"It was good to leave her. It now gives both of you the freedom to do what you must. I fear her task began many years ago. Long before you met, and not at her consent. I believe yours began long before that, even though you have tried to reject it. Be careful," he warned as he rose and strode purposefully out of the pub.

Albus sat staring after the informant, his breath short and ragged. _How could he have known about his past with Gellert?_ _How was Elizabett involved in all of this? Was the whole family? What did Gellert have planned that would attract him?_

His stomach churned, and he abruptly rose. Tossing a few coins onto the tabletop, he strode out of the pub and into the darkness. Something deep inside of him told him that this was the beginning of the end.

~~~***~~~

The dark figure stood in the shadows and watched as Albus left the dingy tavern, his heart beating so hard that it nearly choked him. As Albus disappeared down an alley, the man turned his back to the wall of the fieldstone building and struggled to remain calm. Tonight had been a risk – a bigger risk than anything else he had ever done in his life, but one that he couldn't turn away from.

He had suspected Elizabett's involvement with Grindelwald when he introduced the pair many years ago. She was far too cool, almost angry, and very cautious. Then, there was a warning that she had given him, a warning that she knew whom he was involved with, and she wasn't afraid. _Why wasn't she afraid?_ When he thought back, he would also have to consider the year that she disappeared in Europe. It was the same year that Grindelwald was testing his new wand. Horrible things had happened, and she had returned shortly after the tragedies stopped, her determination in creating this new Muggle program for the British Ministry fuelled by something unmentionable that had taken place. He paused to consider the implications.

As for Albus' involvement with the dark wizard, that insinuation had come from Grindelwald himself. There was almost a melancholy affection in the way his master spoke of the other man. It was reminiscent of a distant memory that was not permitted to surface, almost an ache in his low voice.

Axius tipped his face to the falling snow, feeling the sting of cold against his cheeks. Gellert would skin him alive and use him for a throw rug if he ever found out about tonight. But, Grandmaman had been right. Family came first, always.


	54. 54 Suspicioius Minds

**A/N - I hope you find this worth the wait. It's been a busy month. **

**May the Solstice give brightness and happiness to your days, and peace to your nights.**

**Blessed Yule (for tomorrow).**

**Dani**

**54 – Suspicious Minds**

Albus stood in front of the window of his seventh floor retreat, a light snow gently falling on the sill as he gazed across the courtyard and common below. He had spent the past forty-eight hours processing the information he had received in the dingy, little, French village, and still couldn't wrap his brain around the possibility that his wife of the past seven years was somehow involved with Gellert Grindelwald. There had never been a sign, no indication, or had there? He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth in frustration, tipping his head to the ceiling. There had to have been, but he just hadn't noticed. Had she played her game that well, kept it that well hidden? How could she? His eyes were draw back to the courtyard as the distant figures of Elizabett and Catherine made their appearance at the stone gate that lead to the side entrance. They were smiling, playing with each other, tossing snowballs and laughing. How could they be laughing? He turned away from the window and paced the small room. It was Christmas Eve, and there was a dinner tonight with the other staff members who had stayed behind. Eileen had been asked to keep an eye on Catherine while he and Elizabett had the evening together with their colleagues. He didn't know how he would cope, considering this new information.

Pulling on the comfort of his favourite brown robe with beige edging, he put on a smile and steeled himself for the reunion with his family.

Elizabett and Catherine stomped their feet in the foyer of the side entrance knocking the snow from their boots and dusting it from their shoulders. They had plastered each other with snowballs on the walk up from Hogsmeade, and had laughed the whole way. It had been a wonderful visit with her parents. Catherine and Edvard delighted in playing with each other, and she and Thomas had talked at length about their relationship, for lack of a better word. Now, they were back, and her stomach began to churn. There was a dinner that night, and she and Albus had planned to go together. But first, she wanted to get back to the small apartment, unload their things, and set up the decorations for tomorrow morning's Christmas day with her family.

The halls were empty as mother and daughter made their way to the corridor that led to the greenhouses, and as they turned the corner, Catherine broke into a run.

"Daddy!" she called brightly, her arms outstretched to give her father a hug. "You're here!"

"Of course, I am." He bent to pick up the little girl, giving her a loving squeeze. "I said I would be."

The look of doubt on his daughter's face was enough to hit Albus in the heart. So many times he had said that he'd be there, and so many times he hadn't been. It's not that he didn't want to be; it's just that other things got in the way.

"Hello, Albus." Elizabett smiled as she approached. "Were you watching for us?" She leaned to kiss Albus' cheek.

"As a matter of fact, I was." His lips curled into a gentle smile. "I was at my window and saw you coming. I've missed you." He lowered Catherine to the ground, his deep blue eyes twinkling at the pair. Blast what Axius said. How could he doubt her? He thought.

Giving the password to their quarters, Elizabett opened the door and led the way in, stopping short just beyond the threshold. Catherine pushed past her mother and squealed with delight as she danced around the living room.

"I hope you don't mind." Albus wrapped his hand around Elizabett's waist. "I know it doesn't make up for all the lost time, and I had some help from a couple of the house elves."

Elizabett gazed at her husband and then turned back to the chamber. The living room was fully decorated. Dark green garland hung from the wooden mantel, and three grey and red woollen stockings were magically hitched above the hearth. Gold and red garland hung criss-cross from the ceiling, intermixed with sprigs of holly. In the corner of the room, near the great glass doors that led to the stone patio, an eight-foot Christmas tree stood bedecked in bright decorations: red and gold bows, strings of popcorn and cranberries, and tiny candles hovering in place throughout the tree. The coffee table sported a pine and holly centerpiece with white and gold ribbon tying the branches together, a white pillar candle propped up in the center, and the scent of orange and cloves filtered through the home from the spiced fruit on the kitchen table. The whole effect was warm and inviting.

"No," Elizabett choked. "I don't mind. We were coming back to decorate the place for tomorrow morning. It's beautiful."

They smiled affectionately at each other.

"Is there nothing left to do?" Catherine questioned with a disappointed voice. "I wanted to decorate, too."

Albus knelt to his daughter. "I'm sorry. I thought it would be a nice surprise. Would you help me hang decorations in your bedroom? I didn't get that far." He motioned to the small pile of boxes stacked by the front door.

Catherine grinned and dumped her cloak and boots by the coat rack, racing into her room with one of the packing box.

"Care to join us?" Albus invited Elizabett as he reached for the second box.

"No," Elizabett smiled. "You two go spend time together. I'll make some hot cocoa." She turned to the kitchen and began to pour milk into a pot on the cooker.

An hour passed. Hot cocoa and cookies were served in Catherine's room while father and daughter transformed the pink and white walls into red and white candy cane stripes, the pink coverlet and shams of the bed into something akin to fluffy white mounds of snow, and the curtains into a flurry of snowflakes. Colourful baubles and strings of garland were hung in various places, wherever the fancy took the pair to hang them. The effect was quite something, and Catherine delighted with the time spent with the father.

Elizabett stood back and watched. As much as she enjoyed the effort that Albus was putting in, she could sense an underlying motive, and it nagged at her. She watched him as he watched his daughter levitate and transfigure, a look of satisfaction on his face more so than pride in her abilities. Tears stung at the corner of Elizabett's eyes, and she quickly wiped them away. After all this time, did he not understand how to simply enjoy their company and show that he cared without having an ulterior motive? But, she couldn't deny that the gesture was sweet, so Albus. He used to love to decorate regardless of what the occasion was, but had stopped in the past few years. It was nice to see him trying again, _even if he did get some help from the elves_, she smiled.

With the task done, the family stood back to assess the effect of the room. Catherine was thrilled with the Christmassy colours and was excited about sleeping in a mound of "snow". Albus was pleased with Catherine's growing abilities. At six years old, she had achieved the skill of a beginning first-year in Transfiguration, and was successful with basic, simple charms. And, he was delighted with her unbridled willingness to try and keep trying until she got what she wanted right. Elizabett was proud of her daughter, yes, proud of her abilities, but also proud of her creativity. She wondered, with amusement, if Catherine would ever want to change her room back.

It had been a pleasant afternoon. However, come five o'clock, the chime from the clock above the mantel drew their attention to the next phase of the evening. With a quick, affectionate squeeze, Albus bid Elizabett and Catherine "good-bye" and headed back to his quarters to change, saying that he'd return to escort Elizabett to the Great Hall in an hour. Eileen was due at five-thirty, and Petite would feed the children while Elizabett prepared for the evening out.

As the apartment door closed, Elizabett cast her eyes across the living room. Albus _had_ done a beautiful job. Crossing to the bedrooms, she could hear Catherine talking to her dolls about how her holiday was going so far. Stopping to listen for a moment, Elizabett hung her head sadly as she heard the little girl compare her father and Thomas. She listed qualities of each, and seemed perplexed at how she could possibly love both. Was it fair? Elizabett knew how she felt. On days like this, old feelings were hard to dismiss.

Albus made his way back to his chambers, gave the password, and entered the plain room. There was no garland, no holly, no brightly coloured baubles hanging from the ceiling. The fire in the hearth barely warmed the room, but the frost on the window painted beautiful pictures.

It had been a lovely afternoon. Playing with Catherine had been fun, and watching her manipulate her environment proved that her powers were developing at a much faster and mature rate than he had hoped. He smiled to himself. And, Elizabett seemed so calm, so peaceful. She had so much to be angry with him about, but instead, she stood back and allowed him to spend time with his daughter without interference. He was a lucky man.

He stood in front of the hearth and cast a spell into the flames increasing their size and heat. His mind was drawn back to what Axius had said, processing, once again, the time spent with his wife. While in Elizabett's chambers yesterday, he had not only decorated, but had searched for clues to her association with Gellert. Curiously, he flipped through her class notes, recognizing many of the incidences that she had "revealed" to him as part of her class' work. Much of it was listed on separate pages, and many did not match with the assignments that were listed in her agenda. Were they just notes, ideas that the class had come up with, or was it something else? He didn't know, but some of the incidences were far too close to be coincidence, especially things like the massive invasion by the Allied forces in June, the one that was now called D-Day, and the liberation of Nazi-held cities by the Allies throughout the summer and early fall. In essence, she had told him what was going to happen, and they had held true. Albus' brow furrowed not for the first time in the past two days. Involved with Gellert? He didn't want to believe it, couldn't believe it. Certainly not the woman _he_ knew. But, there had to be something.

Another point that nagged at him was what Axius had said about the Lestranges and Castlewoods holding common ground. Albus knew that the Castlewoods were not involved with Grindelwald. He'd proven that years ago, but the Lestranges were. But, Axius had taken a risk to meet him in France, to warn him about an upcoming situation that he would be "drawn to". Was Axius setting him up? Or, were he and Elizabett doing the same thing? Pointing things out so that he would be drawn to it to maybe stop it? He could feel a weight form in the pit of his stomach. _Was_ she really involved in this somehow? Or, was this Axius' trick to have him doubt the one person he truly trusted?

No. No. Elizabett couldn't be involved. He'd know. He'd slept by this woman for years. They had a child together. He'd know… wouldn't he? Albus moved to the window and stared into the darkness, seeing nothing. Inhaling deeply, he shook the thoughts from his head. After seeing her today, it was impossible. Elizabett was the sweetest, most innocent woman he knew. Claims of her involvement with Grindelwald had to be a ruse, and Axius would know about her powers, he's family, after all. And, of course, she's capable of taking care of Catherine. She's her mother, and a mother's protection of her child could be fierce. Axius had to be setting him up for something. But, he seemed so sincere, and he usually had an excellent sense in reading people. He scrubbed his face with his hands and ran his fingers through his beard. But, then, there were the notes in Elizabett's agenda… Albus stared at his reflection in the paned glass. Why was life so complicated?

The tangerine rays of dawn, barely peeking over the horizon, gave promise for a sunny Christmas day, and the sneaking rustle of paper could already be heard from the living room. Elizabett creaked her left eye open, a tired but amused smile creeping over her lips. She had been up half the night trying to keep an anxious Catherine in her room, so the gifts could be laid out. Finally resorting to mixing a drop of Dreamless Sleep potion into some warm milk, she carried her sleeping child to bed and finished the task. Now, as the morning sun began to rise, excitement once again began to filter into the apartment.

Rolling onto her side and pulling the warm cover to her chin, Elizabett debated whether to let Catherine continue to shake the packages or to get up and start breakfast. The warmth of the bed won, and Elizabett dozed for another minute or two…or ten, but was startled awake by a tickling sensation on her cheek. She jumped, knocking her head against something hard, and flopped back down into the pillows.

"Good Gods! You gave me a start!" she grumbled rubbing her forehead with her left hand.

"Sorry about that." Albus smiled rubbing his own forehead and taking a step back from the edge of the bed. "Our daughter has gone through most of the packages, squeezing and shaking the lot. Do you think we should go save the wrapping from further torture?"

Elizabett chuckled. "With you here? The Master Christmas Paper Shredder himself? Have you ever taken notice of how _you_ unwrap things?" Elizabett pushed the covers back and swung her feet over the edge, inattentively searching for her slippers while her husband stood in the middle of the room.

"I taught her well." He puffed his chest with comic pride. Then, there was a moment's pause as he became more serious. "Thank you for letting me stay last night. It's been a long time. Waking to the sound of Catherine and those packages was delightful."

"Delightful?" Elizabett snorted as she rose and pulled a pale blue bathrobe around her slight shoulders. "I think your environment is far too quiet. Was the study warm enough? Since you've been gone, we've kept the door closed. Even with a fire lit, it was late, it would have taken a while to get the room warm." She smiled back at him.

"I was fine. I cast a Warming spell, and by the time it wore off the fire had done its job." Albus held the door open for Elizabett as they moved into the living room.

Standing in the archway between the two rooms, Albus stood behind his wife and placed his chin on top of her head as they watched their daughter under the Christmas tree. She was quite a sight; auburn curls tousled from the night hung halfway down her back, her pale pink bathrobe now too short for the growing child. She was on her knees digging through the packages and poking at the ribbons, laughing at the bow that was charmed to tap and scold her nosy fingers.

Elizabett could feel Albus sigh against her back. Was he finally realizing what he was giving up?

"It's about time!" Catherine chimed, finally noticing her parents. "Can we start opening the presents?"

Elizabett and Albus looked at each other.

"Tea?" Albus asked. "Maybe some toast first?"

Catherine's face began to drop, and disappointment clouded her bright eyes.

"Oh, all right," he relented with a defeated smile. "How about the stockings first?" He sat in his favourite chair while Catherine's smile returned as she jumped up to fetch the stockings from the mantel.

"You _were_ just kidding, weren't you?" Elizabett eased onto the arm of his chair uncertain of his true intent.

"Of course," Albus replied as he reached for the stocking that Catherine offered, but Elizabett wasn't completely convinced.

The morning passed quietly, and by lunchtime Elizabett could sense Albus' boredom. Thankfully, the staff had planned an early tea and afternoon of activities for the students left behind for the holiday, and soon they were on their way.

One long table stood below the High Table in the Great Hall, and Bathilda and Professor Flaurance had spent part of the morning decorating it for the occasion. Professor Kettleburn, Og, and Hagrid had chopped down and dragged in four great pine trees at the beginning of December that the Houses had decorated before leaving for the break. The charmed ceiling reflected the bright sunshine outside, and several of the staff and students who had already arrived, mingled with each other and waited for tea to be served. Catherine quickly found Eileen, and the two were joined by two third-years. The friends ran off to play amongst the long tables together.

As time passed, the group grew restless. The Headmaster was late, and when he harriedly arrived, he was holding a slip of parchment in his hand and looking somewhat distressed. Adeptly moving through the gathering, he took Albus' elbow and led him to the side. They spoke quickly and quietly for a moment, Albus nodding on occasion with what was being said. Then, he took the parchment, read it, and glanced around the room. All eyes were focused on the pair. Finding Elizabett watching from beside the set table, he approached, and tipped his head to his wife.

"I have to go," he said in a low voice. "It's important."

Elizabett pressed her lips together, not moving. _Of course, it was. It always was._ "I understand," she replied quietly. "There's a war on. I'm surprised there wasn't a cease-fire for Christmas."

"Apparently there is, but this is something else. I have to check it out." Albus could sense understanding, but also an underlying anger and disappointment. This was something he really didn't need, one of the reasons he moved out.

"Don't forget to say "good-bye" to Catherine." Elizabett nodded toward their daughter who was playing on the other side of the room near the Slytherin table.

Albus glanced over his left shoulder. "Of course not." His drew his attention back to Elizabett. "I'm sorry. Things were going so well."

"Be safe." Elizabett softened then leaned to kiss her husband's cheek.

He nodded to her and moved to intercept his daughter as she dashed away from one of the young Gryffindors. Knealing to her, Elizabett didn't need to hear his words to know what was being said. Catherine stood stock-still listening to her father's explanation, her demeanour deflating from excited to disheartened. Then, he kissed her forehead, rose, and walked from the room. Catherine stood watching him for a moment, then turned to the bench and sat down. Eileen, who had been playing a short distance away, stopped to sit by her little friend, wrapping her arm around her small shoulders. Elizabett was torn between her understanding of Albus' situation and the anger for having her daughter hurt once again. It _had_ been a lovely time, but some things never change.


	55. 55 The Power Of Angels And Gods

**A/N - Happy New Year to all!! I hope everyone had a pleasant and safe holiday. Here a ****little light reading for you. Enjoy.**

**Dani**

**55 – The Power Of Angels and Gods**

The small town Iowa boy huddled in a low foxhole, not far from the whiz of gunfire. It was bitterly cold, the coldest he had ever felt in his nineteen years of life, and he could smell the stench of death and destruction around him. He lifted his head from the protection of his arms and could hear harsh shouts not too far away. They spoke a language that he didn't understand, and he could feel himself begin to shake harder. Everyone near him, his whole troop, was dead, blown to bits by the last mortar that fell. Somehow, for some reason, he had survived, and he had thanked God thoroughly while quickly running his hands over his body, making certain that all of his parts were still attached.

The ground crunched beneath feet, and a young soldier, not much older than him, with a smoke-smeared face peered over the edge and into the foxhole; a rifle shouldered on his left side, his green helmet fastened tightly under his chin, puffs of steam curling from his mouth to condense on the front edge of his heavy, flack jacket. He gazed into the space as if it were empty staring directly at the terrified, prone man, then called something to his companions and moved on.

_What happened? Couldn't he see?_ The frightened young man huddled deeper into himself. He was so far from home, so scared, and so alone. He didn't know what to do or where to go, so he just lay there, replacing his head into the crook of his arms, and praying for a miracle.

"You'll freeze if you stay where you are," a young woman's voice spoke gently startling the man from his distress.

"Am I dead?" the young soldier rolled over and asked the apparition in a voice that he barely recognized as his own.

The woman stood in the foxhole with him. She wore simple, dark wool trousers and a heavy, cable-knit fishing sweater. Her long, brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail like what his sister used to wear, and her pale blue eyes were soft and caring. But, he noticed, there was a pale, white aura emanating around her, giving her an unearthly glow, and that made him nervous.

She tweaked a sad smile. "No. I arrived too late to help the others. But, you need to get up, get moving. You have to get out of here. The Germans have moved on, but they might come back. This isn't your day to die," she urged.

The soldier struggled to stand using the debris around him as leverage, but his weak legs gave way, and he fell backward, dizzy and nauseas.

"I can't," he complained. But, at her outstretched hand and encouraging smile, he tried again, waving away her offer of assistance. "You're a dream," he mumbled as he fought to stand. "You're not real. I must be dead."

"No," the woman insisted kindly. "You're not, but if you don't get up, you might be. Here," she said, taking a cautious step forward. "Take my arm. We'll go together."

With wary eyes, the soldier finally grasped her forearm arm to haul himself up, and with a gut-wrenching jolt, they disappeared from the foxhole, squeezed through time and space to a safer place miles away.

They landed hard, and the young man fell to his knees, his stomach lurching, vomiting onto the frozen ground. Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his coat, he sputtered, "What just happened?"

"You'll be safe here," the woman whispered placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as she glanced up and vanished with a light "pop".

As the man rested, still on all fours, trying to settle the crashing tides that waged a war of their own inside him, he heard the sound of running feet and shouts in a language he finally recognized.

"Look! There's another one!"

The soldier felt strong hands grasp his shoulders as a medic took quick stock of his wounds.

"Geez, man. How'd ya get here?" the medic asked with a thick, Brooklyn accent. "We've had people poppin' outta nowhere for the past half hour."

The soldier's eyes glassed over as he stared at the older man in bloodied, combat fatigues.

"An angel", he managed to whisper with a dry throat before losing consciousness.

~~~***~~~

"Are you mad?? You Apparated directly into a battlefield! You're not impervious to Muggle weapons! What were you thinking??" Thomas paced the tiny, thatched roof farmhouse where the Resistance had met, his arms flaying in the air with his anger and fear. He could have lost her. She could have been killed. This can't, no, won't, happen again!

"It was the end of the battle. I waited as long as I could. There was one survivor left, and he needed help getting out. The others had already gone. I cast a Protective Shield over him and a Cloaking Charm when the Germans got too close. Then, I Apparated him to the American medical unit on the other side of the ridge." Elizabett sat, still shaking from the ordeal. Thomas was right. It had been close, but she had a window of opportunity that couldn't be refused. She couldn't leave the boy there.

He turned and gazed at her steadily, running his fingers through his thick, black hair. She could see his body shake as he struggled for control. Slowly, he stepped in her direction and sat beside her on the narrow, wooden bench against the wall, his hands on his knees as he examined his scuffed boots.

"This is it," he finally said. "I think it's coming to an end. This battle in Ardennes proved that the Americans are a force to contend with and that the Germans are not going to win. General Patton must be thrilled. But, many lives were lost, and one of them could have been yours." He paused for a moment, staring at some of the other Resistance fighters as they chatted quietly in small groups, tended to the wounded, or rested alone along one of the other benches that lined the walls of the farmhouse. Thomas shook his head slowly, his lips pressed tightly together. "This is it, Lizzie. No more. Now, we concentrate on bringing Grindelwald down. The Muggles can fend for themselves. We have a different job to do."

Elizabett leaned her weary head against Thomas' broad shoulder and nodded in agreement. The Americans had done an incredible job breaking the German forces in Belgium. The Battle of the Bulge, as some called it, was a turning point in this war. They had to focus on Grindelwald now, flush him out somehow.

"Hogwarts or Gavarnie?" Thomas quietly asked as he tipped his head toward hers resting his cheek on the top. "With Catherine at your parents' for the weekend and Albus out of town… again, you're a free woman." A ghost of a smile played on his lips, but Elizabett was too tired to jibe back.

"I'm on duty tomorrow afternoon…" she began softly.

"Then, Gavarnie it is." Thomas rose, tucking his right arm around her back and under her arm, lifting her exhausted body from the bench. "I've been there recently. Straightened up a few things. Replenished some of the supplies. It's a great place to recharge. Looks like you could use it."

Elizabett breathed deeply and nodded slowly. He knew her so well. He was right. She was drained.

~~~***~~~

The castle ruins on the top of the mountain that overlooked the great valley and waterfall in the Hautes-Pyrenees, southwestern France, had been Elizabett's sanctuary for many years. She had found it, or more like, it found her while she travelled Europe researching. The spot seemed to call to her, quite literally at times, as she could hear distance voices on the wind regardless of where she was, or in the whisper of the grass in the meadow of the valley as she approached the ravine, or in the roar of the waterfall as it tumbled over the steep ledge and crashed into the rocks below. They were voices that reached in and stirred something deep inside that she had only felt when working magick with her mother and grandmother. And, as she got closer to the area, the voices became stronger. When she found herself at the bottom of the deep valley, looking up at the majestic mountains, the pull was extraordinary. And, rather than Apparate to the top, she made the physical climb, the struggle and sweat solidifying her desire to reach her goal, to get to the place where she knew she belonged, where something waited for her.

Over the years, she had used the ruins as a place to regenerate, a place to gather new strength from the ancient walls and stones and the powers that lived within them. It was a place that cleared her mind and soothed her soul. The thin oriel on the west wall that overlooked the gorge held the perfect view of the setting sun, and was in the ideal position for the guardians of protection. Even when darkness fell, and the wind whipped up the cliff, climbed the massive ramparts, and groaned down the chimney like a battalion of ghosts preparing to send her on her way, she felt safe. This was her sanctuary, her place…until she let Thomas in.

From that first night, when he had caught her outside of Gellert's manor and she had led him here, the castle had accepted him. It's ancient fortifications and spells that had redirected curious hikers in past years had recognized a connection to Elizabett and let him through with ease. She had never brought anyone before, and didn't know why she had brought him then, except that it was instinctual. But, as time passed, and their visits to the ruins continued, it became clear. They were a pair, partners, connected at a level that they had only played with as children and didn't honestly acknowledge, as they grew older. Yet, through their troubles in life, they remained connected, a bond that could not be broken, a bond that had deepened.

The steady crackle of a low fire on the grate kept the ancient room cosy and warm, and the gentle rise and fall of Thomas' breathing beside her warmed her heart.

They had arrived after sunset and made a small meal with the provisions that Thomas had brought. Then, with bellies satisfied, had stripped to their underclothes and climbed into bed, falling asleep almost instantly, neither noticing the white haze that lingered like a thin frost on the walls, securing the window, door, and fireplace. They were surrounded and soothed by a power that would watch over them while they rested. Now, with the rise of the golden, morning sun, Elizabeth stirred in the snug confines of the ancient, woollen quilt, not wanting to get up, but knowing that she must. Rolling to her side, she carefully folded the covers back, straightened her camisole, and eased her legs over the edge. Even the stone floor was warm to her bare feet.

"Where you going?" Thomas mumbled sleepily, rolling onto his back and reaching a lazy arm to Elizabeth.

"To pee." She glanced over her shoulder with a smile as his hand touched the soft, cotton material.

"Mmm. Good idea," Thomas replied with a crooked grin. "Hurry up. I'm next."

With the early morning deed done, they curled back under the covers and rested in each other's arms, nodding off for what seemed to be only a few minutes. To her, it was a perfection that would soon end. She had to get Catherine from her parents', and was on hall duty that afternoon. Merlin only knew when Albus would make an appearance. He'd been friendly at Christmas, but since his rapid departure Christmas day, he'd been preoccupied. _Nothing new there,_ Elizabett thought as she finally got up to dress. She sensed a definite suspiciousness that he tried to conceal from her, but as he frequently mulled it over, it left him vulnerable. She couldn't help but pry…just a bit.

"What are you thinking about?" Thomas straightened the covers of the bed after pulling on his trousers.

"A dozen things," Elizabett sighed as she pulled a cream, cable knit sweater over her pink blouse. She knew that he could sense her feelings, her thoughts, but he had the courtesy to ask first. She had told him of her concerns regarding Albus and that she felt that he was suspicious about her.

Thomas tossed a pillow to the head of the bed, and strode around to join her. Running the fingers of his right hand up her arm, he placed them on her shoulder, and solemnly faced her. "What you've done, you've done for the good of all. There have been no acts so selfless as what you've had to live through. You're silence was part of a bond that was made through coercion, that I only came upon by accident. I think that one day, things will all come to a head and blow, but I also sense that he's not being upfront with you either. He's hiding something important."

Funny how he knew what she was thinking, she smirked. And, he was right. She knew it, but it didn't make things better.

Thomas drew her into an embrace, and as they stood in the middle of the aged room, silently drawing from each other, they were joined by another force, that misty, white haze that enveloped them, pulsed lightly, and turned pink before they broke apart. Absolute comfort. Unconditional love. Peace.

"Home?" Thomas stated as he took a step back to fetch his cloak.

Elizabett remained still, watching his strong body fluidly move across the room, until he turned to her silence. "I am home," she lovingly replied. "Catherine first, then Hogwarts."

She strode across the room to retrieve her cloak but wistfully glanced over her shoulder for one last look at her sanctuary. Thomas joined her by the fireplace, and the pair Disapparated from their safe haven to continue their lives that to others seemed so ordinary.


	56. 56 Winter Wonderland

**A/N - I've been busy. It's a long one. Hope you like it.**

**Dani**

**56 – Winter Wonderland**

Blustery snow had fallen all night leaving a heavy layer of the white stuff over the rolling Scottish landscape. The students had risen, anxiously gazing across the grounds from their dorm windows, heaving great sigh of relief that the storm was now merely light, fluffy flakes drifting on the winter air. The Hogsmeade Valentine weekend had been at risk of being cancelled. Now, they rushed to ready themselves for the day.

The Main Entrance Hall was already buzzing with excitement when Elizabett led Catherine to the Great Hall for breakfast. Once in a while, it was a treat for the youngster to join the noisy crowd. As they climbed the back steps to the platform and settled at the High Table, Professor Flaurance leaned forward to girlishly wave over the plates of scrambled eggs and sausages. Catherine waved back with a giggle. She liked the Herbology professor very much and enjoyed time spent in the greenhouses. Professors Bagshot and Merrythought arrived next, bidding them "good morning" with bright smiles. And, Albus entered a moment later, taking his seat, which placed Catherine between her parents. He smiled affectionately at his daughter and wife as if he had only seen them earlier that morning, when in reality it had been nearly a week.

"Good morning," he merrily chimed as he reached for a piece of toast and spread it with a thick layer of raspberry jam. "I noticed that you didn't volunteer for Hogsmeade this year," he said conversationally to Elizabett. "Didn't you want to go?"

Elizabett blinked in surprise at the question, but regained her composure quickly. She was annoyed with him. When Headmaster Dippet had asked for volunteers, she had held back knowing that traditionally it was an outing that they shared as a family, but Albus had quickly agreed to chaperone with Horace and Professor Merrythought. She had silently fumed. Once again, he hadn't considered anyone but himself. But, then again, she tried to look at it sensibly. They had been separated since November, and even though they remained friendly, visiting on occasion, and he claimed that he still loved her, he was pleasantly moving along with his life. It was frustrating and confusing.

"No," Elizabett replied sipping her tea for something to do. "Catherine and I are meeting Bathilda after breakfast and heading to the village for a short visit. Then, Eileen is going to take Catherine sledding with some other students at the Care of Magical Creatures compound. Hagrid has made a lovely toboggan run for the children."

Catherine had a special place in her heart for Hagrid. He had always treated her kindly, and she found it hysterically funny that she didn't even reach his hip.

"Mmm, such a kind, gentle soul," Albus replied absently, biting into a sausage.

"It was good of you to keep him here, to fight for him. He's been through a lot in his life." Elizabett tried to continue the conversation.

"I don't believe he was responsible for the incidents that happened with the Chamber, and if the others were so against him, he would not be here. But, since things have remained quiet, no one is willing to investigate any further." Albus chatted without considering that his young daughter was listening to his words.

"Mommy." She leaned toward Elizabett. "Does that mean those awful things can still happen?"

Elizabett scowled at Albus who finally took notice. "No, Love," she answered. "Everything is fine. That was a while ago, and the school wouldn't remain open if there was still any danger."

"Sorry," Albus whispered over Catherine's head to his irritated wife.

A half-bellow and a hardy clap on the shoulder interrupted the tense moment as Horace sidled up behind Albus.

"I'm ready to go. Have you finished yet?" Horace announced with a satisfied smirk toward Elizabett. Although they got along, he couldn't help but be pleased with the poor turn of their marriage and had offered Albus comfort and solace in his time of need. Albus was still somewhat distance toward the man, but the friendship had renewed and much time was spent together. "Hello, Catherine." The Potions Master reached to tweak the child's nose, but she pulled away. She hated having her nose tweaked, and had never liked the man much. There was just something about him.

"Yes, I'm ready." Albus wiped his mouth with a napkin and placed it beside his plate. Rising to meet his friend, he carelessly smiled back at his family as he descended the steps. "Would you care to join us for lunch at the Simmering Cauldron?" he asked, but Horace's impatient demeanor sidetracked his attention, and he left before Elizabett could answer.

She watched as they exited out the side door, Horace chattering a mile a minute while Albus' preoccupied state told her that he was mulling something over. Her temper flushed her cheeks at his haphazard dismissal, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught the disapproving and shocked looks of some of her collegues. Turning to Catherine, she tried to put on a pleasant smile and asked, "Would you like to join your Daddy for lunch?"

Catherine's face was stern, her bright blue eyes flashing with an underlying anger. "No," she firmly stated. "He really doesn't want us there. I like our plans better."

~~~***~~~

Hogsmeade was thick with lovers and those who tried, and those who were just out for the candy and fun on a beautiful winter's day. Students raced from favourite shop to favourite shop while charmed hearts and cherubs flitted and floated through the village, delivering messages.

Catherine, Elizabett, and Bathilda trudged their way through the snow to the Town Square to watch poofy, pink bubbles foam up from the water fountain and burst into tiny, pink heart on the frosty air. Then, Catherine all but dragged them to Village Square Sweet Shoppe where the front windows were filled with tempting treats, and a line of overly sugared students spilled out the door and into the street.

"Dare we risk it?" Elizabett chuckled as she peered through the steamy window, examining the chaos outside.

"Age has its privileges." Bathilda straightened as if heading into battle. "Follow me," she firmly instructed, taking Catherine's hand in hers, and leading the giggling child into the throng of legs, cloaks, and noise. "Out of my way. Out of my way," she ordered as they moved into the shop. Elizabett had to laugh as she followed in her wake. The students parted before the older professor like the Red Sea parting for Moses.

Catherine "ooo'd" and "ahhh'd" at the sight before her, and as someone else was being served at the counter, the trio examined the delectable contents in the multitude of glass jars and cabinets that lined the many shelves. Spider Spun Candy Floss, heart-shaped lollies that beat when you put them in your mouth, jars upon jars of colourfully wrapped sweets. It was a child's heaven.

"What would you like, Sweetheart?" Elizabett asked Catherine whose face was tightly pressed against a glass cabinet filled with an assortment of chocolates.

"The sticky, chocolate heart," she replied with a grin watching the confection pulse a few times before oozing cherry syrup from the center. "And, some of that candy floss." She pointed to the vase high on top of a tall counter.

"A chocolate heart and candy floss, it is, then," Bathilda ordered across the din to the young woman at the cash. "And, you?" she directed toward Elizabett.

"Nothing. Thanks. I'm good." Elizabett had to yell over the crowd.

"Nonsense. We've made it this far. There's no going back," Bathilda enticed with a playful smirk.

"Almond Bark," a voice called over the noise. "And, a bag of Sherbet Lemons for the girl." Elizabett turned as best as she could to see a smiling face behind her. "You didn't think I'd forget that today was Valentine's, did you? I still care for my girls." Albus beamed.

"How did you manage to shake Horace?" Elizabett's lips pursed with annoyance, but she broke into a grin at Albus' heavy sigh and rolling eyes.

"With difficulty," he said. "I ditched him at the book shop, and slipped out the back door when I saw you in the square. I wonder if he notices that I'm gone yet?"

Albus paid for all the purchases, including Bathilda's half pound of mixed, chewy clusters, and the group squeezed out of the shop.

"Thank you," Elizabett breathlessly replied as she straightened herself and took the chocolate from her husband.

"My pleasure." He pecked her cheek and leaned to give Catherine the Sherbets, giving her a hug and a peck as well. "Happy Valentine's," he said. "I'm sorry about this morning. I was a bit distracted, and well, you know how Horace can be."

"Annoying?" Elizabett suggested.

"An ass?" Bathilda added to surprised looks. "What? He can be." She defended.

Albus shrugged with a slight up tilt of his lips. "We need to talk. Later. Tonight. Before the dance? May I come over?" he shyly asked his wife.

Elizabett nodded, uncertain of what to expect. She was tired of his inconsistent behavior. When they were together, they had fun, and could enjoy each other, but she always knew that if something else came up, she and Catherine would be dropped at a moment's notice. History had proven that. She couldn't take it anymore, and it wasn't fair to their daughter.

As he left, Catherine danced along in front of them, and Bathilda put a voice to Elizabett's unspoken questions.

"Hmmm, reconciliation or handparting?"

~~~***~~~

"So? Where did you dash off to?" Horace finally caught up with Albus outside the Simmering Cauldron.

"I had to speak with Elizabett. We're going to meet before the dance tonight." Albus' solemn face had Horace swing a hefty arm over his friend's shoulder.

"Are you two going together? You didn't say anything earlier. You know, you could have told me," Horace sniffed indignantly. Albus made no response as they strode down the cobbled street. "Come now, my good man. It can't be that bad. What you need is a good distraction, a pick-me-up. There's a new place just opened. The Three Broomsticks. Looks interesting. We should give it a try. What do you say?"

Albus raised his head as his friend manoeuvred him across the street and down a few doors. They stopped before a building that had been abandoned for some time, examining the renovations. The heavy timbered, glass windows were newly polished, and a shiny, wrought iron sign hanging on an outstretched rod above the door swung in the light breeze. Pushing the darkened door open, the men stepped in and scanned the polished plank tables, sturdy oak beams, and spotless counter with high stools and a gleaming, brass footrest. Stepping down two, short stairs and into the main area, a young man waved from behind the counter as his wife came to greet them.

"Welcome to the Three Broomsticks," she beamed. "Help yourself to whatever table you like. Our specialty today is a warmed Butterbeer with gingersnaps."

"You're new in town." Horace smiled at the young woman. "Have you been here long?"

"No," she pleasantly replied. "We moved from London recently and fell in love with the place. Our daughter, Rosie, will be attending Hogwarts next year, so that keeps us close. The village Elders told us about the Hogsmeade Weekends, and we were delighted to be opened in time. Do you teach at Hogwarts?"

The easy conversation continued until the men were seated, and then the woman turned to place their order at the bar and tend to the newest customers. As the professors sat, taking in the new environment, they noticed a group of familiar faces huddled at a back table. Urbus McNair and Cassias Goyle seemed to dominate the conversation as the others listened intently.

"Hmm, this can't be good." Albus rested back in his chair and watched the boys attentively.

"Oh, for pity sake, Albus. They're just talking." Horace grumbled, absently glancing over his shoulder. He hated when Albus picked on his Slytherin charges.

"I'm just watching," Albus genially replied. "They look more like planning than talking. Sorry, Horace. I just don't trust those boys. And, it makes me wonder where Tom is?"

"Well, I can help with that one," Horace hmphed. "Tom requested a pass for the Restricted Section to work on an assignment. He was quite captivated by it, and I wanted to encourage him. He's a good boy, Albus. Very intelligent. Very charming. Considering where he's from, he'll go somewhere in life."

Albus knew there was no arguing and no convincing that could be done. Very few other teachers felt the way he did about Tom Riddle, so he had learned to keep his eyes opened and his mouth shut…for now.

~~~***~~~

The clouds finally parted, and bright sunshine beamed through to wrap anyone who ventured outside in unprecedented warmth.

Eileen showed up right on time to take Catherine sledding, and Elizabett cast Anti-Wet Charms on their clothing to ensure that they stayed dry to avoid winter colds. She was due on duty on the common, so as soon as the children headed out, she bundled herself up and thanked the Goddess for the beautiful day. She really didn't mind being outside. It was invigorating.

Trudging through the deep snow in the back of the castle, Eileen held Catherine's hand to help the smaller child over some of the deeper spots. Hagrid's toboggan run was a popular site for the younger students, and there were already a number of them there, laughing and running, and sliding down the slope. The run wasn't terribly steep, but the snow had been well packed and, with a little magical help from the Care of Magical Creatures professor, had been charmed for an extended ride from a knoll behind the compound, into the garden, and to the edge of the forest. Professors Kettleburn and Flaurance kept watch as Hagrid help haul sleds back up the hill for excited first-years. He could take three or four at a time, half of the time with children still on them. His deep laugh was contagious as it rang through the air. The young giant was as popular as his creation.

"Wotcha, Eileen, Catherine." He waved to the newcomers as he relinquished a sled to a third-year. "I got yer sled righ' 'ere." He strode over to the small shed by Professor Kettleburn's hut.

The children were permitted to store their sleds there during the winter as the building was only used in the spring and summer for gardening.

"Thanks." Eileen smiled at the hulk of a boy as he laid the wooden toboggan on the ground.

"'ere," he said. "You two sit, an' I'll pull ya up."

It was a fun afternoon, and the children's cheeks grew rosy from being outside and with the exertion. As time passed, the number of student began to thin out, opting to return to their Common Rooms for hot cocoa and cookies prepared by efficient house elves. Eileen and Catherine sat on their sled at the top of the hill ready to make another run when Eileen pointed a mittened hand in the direction of the garden.

"What's that?" she asked watching a shimmering stick bounce around where the pumpkins were in the fall.

"Donno." Catherine squinted her eyes. "Let's go see." She leaned forward and jumped in her seat to start the sled down the hill. "It's a Bowtrickle!" she squealed half way down as the creature dashed off to the edge of the woods.

"A Bowtrickle? Impossible," Eileen informed the youngster. "They hibernate in the winter."

"I know that," Catherine indignantly huffed as she rolled off the sled once it stopped. "But, that's what it looked like. It looked cold."

"Professor Kettleburn," Eileen called as they trudged over to the fence. "Is it possible for a Bowtrickle to be out in the winter?"

The scruffy professor gazed down fondly at the children, and ran his fingers through his cropped, coffee-coloured beard. "Not likely. They're awfully thin and don't like the cold. They stick themselves to the trees in the fall to hibernate drawing warmth from the sap and energy of the tree. Why?"

Eileen looked back to the garden and shook her head slightly. "Nothing. Just asking," she said as she turned to walk back toward the castle forgetting the sled in the garden.

"Lannie?" Catherine trotted behind her friend. "Lannie, we both saw it. I know it was a Bowtrickle."

"Couldn't have been," Eileen absently replied as she continued up the path.

"Lannie!" an annoyed Catherine bellowed after her friend. "What's with you?" Eileen didn't answer.

Catherine glanced over her shoulder again to see several glittering, stick-like creatures bouncing along the edge of the forest. It was almost as if they were dancing. Professor Kettleburn was engrossed in a conversation with a giggling Professor Flaurance, and Hagrid was at the shed putting sleds away. No one else saw. Angry at the dismissal from her friend, Catherine turned toward the garden to examine the creatures more closely. As she reached the edge, they waved to her, ran in circles laughing, and dashed into the forest. Catherine laughed and followed.

Elizabett made a final round of the common before deciding to head in. It was beginning to get dark, and dinner would be served early in order to prepare for the dance that night. Bathilda and Professor Babbling had cornered her into volunteering with them to decorate the hall after dinner, and she wanted to get back to the apartment to change and straighten up first. Albus was coming over. Merlin only knew what he was going to say, and her stomach churned.

Entering the Main Entrance Hall, she dusted off her cloak and began to unfasten the neck, when she saw Eileen standing alone gazing up at the House hourglasses. She still wore her outdoor clothes even though her cheeks were warm from being inside.

"Eileen?" Elizabett curiously approached the young Slytherin. "When did you get back?"

Eileen's blank gaze shifted from the hourglasses to the Muggle Studies teacher, then to her clothes, and her surroundings. "I don't know," her voice was distant.

Elizabett's heart began to pound. "Eileen," she said as calmly as she could. "Where's Catherine?"

Eileen's eyes clouded over, and her cheeks grew scarlet. "I don't know?" she repeated as she slowly began to shake. "I don't know." Her hands flew to her face. "We were sledding. I talked to Professor Kettleburn. Now, I'm here," she cried into her hands. "I don't know," she began to sob.

Elizabett felt her throat constrict, and a violent shiver ran up her spine and through her limbs. She closed her eyes and focused on her child, mentally seeking her out within the castle. There was no sign.

"Petite," she nervously called and a small house elf instantly appeared at her side. "Is Catherine in the apartment?"

"No, Mistress. Miss Catherine's not back from sledding." Her bulbous eyes widened in worry.

"Find Professor Dumbledore. Tell him that Catherine is missing. Miss Prewett," Elizabett called to a third-year Gryffindor. "Take Miss Prince to the hospital wing. Tell Madam Prince that some kind of memory charm has been used on her. I don't know what." Elizabett's panic was beginning to show and several Gryffindor and Ravenclaw seniors gathered around. "Has anyone seen Professor Kettleburn or Professor Flaurance?"

"I did. They're in the Great Hall," Simeon Potter answered. "Do you want me to go get them?"

Elizabett nodded and began to pace.

When the professors arrived, they were followed by Professor Merrythought, Bathilda, and the Headmaster. No one had seen Catherine return.

"Where's Albus?" Bathilda asked.

"I haven't seen him since late this afternoon, in Hogsmeade," Professor Merrythought replied. "There weren't many students left in the village, and he wanted to make certain they were all on their way back before returning."

"I've sent our house elf to find him," Elizabett put in.

"He's not in the castle, Mistress," Petite appeared just in time to answer.

Elizabett rebuttoned her cloak and wrapped her scarf around her neck while Professor Kettleburn grabbed his cloak from the staff closet by the front door.

"Are you sure she's not in the castle?" Professor Flaurance's worried brow creased.

"She's not in the apartment, and I can't sense her anywhere," Elizabett's voice trembled. "I can usually sense her and Albus. And, I can't feel either of them."

"We'll get our cloaks, too, and meet you by the compound. She can't have gone far," Professor Merrythought volunteered.

Several of the seniors nearby nodded in agreement. They would come, too.

"You know," Professor Kettleburn frowned. "Eileen asked about Bowtrickles this afternoon. Asked if they ever come out in the winter. She knows better than that."

"When I saw her moments ago, she looked dazed, like she was under some kind of spell. She didn't know how she got back to the castle and didn't know what happened to Catherine," Elizabett fretted.

There was a moment of silent understanding as the group gazed at each other, and without another word, they rapidly left the Main Entrance, heading for Professor Kettleburn's domain.

At the compound, Hagrid and Og joined the search, scanning the edge of the trees while students fanned out, going over the toboggan run with their wands at _Lumos Maximus_. There was no sign of the child. When they returned, Professors Kettleburn and Merrythought organized the group of students and professors into pairs, and they began infiltrating the first layer of trees, calling, but eventually being pushed back by an unusual fog. Elizabett and Bathilda blindly tried to push further. Elizabett could sense Catherine's fear, but the fog thickened to the point where they were forced to retreat.

After an hour, the group reunite at Professor Kettleburn's hut. Bathilda had her arm securely around Elizabett's shoulders while Elizabett closed her eyes, breathing deeply, steadily, trying to keep herself from panicking. As she did, she continued to reach out to her child, feeling an itch at the edge of her senses, knowing Catherine was there, but unable to locate her, as if her senses were being block.

_Albus, where are you?_ She mentally sent. _Catherine is lost. I need your help. _But, there was nothing. No reply. No sensation from her husband.

"We can try again," a brave Gryffidor suggested. "This time make a solid line with our bodies. We'll keep in contact with each other, push through that fog."

"No," Elizabett choked. "I can't have any of you take that risk. It's too thick. You'll be lost." She stared at the forest willing the fog to dissipate, struggling to keep her panic in check. Stepping away from the group and facing the trees, she tipped her head to the clear sky and closed her eyes. Slowly, as her focus deepened, the chatter of the group fell onto deaf ears. She heard only her heart pound through her veins as she spread her arms to the side, every fibre of her being concentrating on one thing, finding her daughter.

What began as a light glimmer extending from her fingertips grew into a ghostly shimmer around her body, which began to radiate in strands like miniature flares from the sun. Her energy grew, began to pulse, and she could see Catherine huddled by a tree, covered with thick foliage, curled into a frightened ball, and all alone. The thick fog pressed against an odd light that surrounded the child as if keeping her safe. Elizabett mentally reached for her daughter, reassuring her that she was on the way, and as she did, she could see Catherine's teary face lift from her arms as if she heard.

Running feet crunched the snow that led to the Care of Magical Creatures compound. They were swift, long strides of someone who needed to get somewhere fast. At the top of the knoll where the girls had gone sledding that afternoon, those feet came to an abrupt, skidding halt for a split second, then came racing down the slope to the group by the hut.

"Lizzie!" Thomas' alarmed voice called. "Have you found her? Gods, I could feel your fear all the way to London."

Elizabett whirled around and was caught in a sudden, tight embrace.

"No," she answered into his chest. "I can see her, and I think she felt me a moment ago, but I can't pinpoint where she is."

Letting go, he sharply looked around and asked, "Where's Albus?" Then, he stopped to gaze into her eyes. "No," he uttered in disbelief. "He's not here?" Thomas balled his fists and roared to the sky. Snapping his attention to the situation, he firmly instructed, "Hands" bending his arms and drawing his hands in front of his shoulders.

Elizabett raised her hands to meet his, and their fingers entwined as the others helplessly watched. "Focus," he spoke with absolute confidence. "We'll find her. We'll bring her home."

With their hands clasped, Elizabett and Thomas closed their eyes, blocking out all sound but their beating hearts and the echo of their steady breathing. Catherine was the only thought between them as a white aura began to form.

"Goddess Earth. Mother of creation.

Spirits of the Elemental world.

We seek your guidance and assistance.

The child of generations is lost.

We can feel her, see her, but cannot reach her.

Protect her and guide us to her."

Their voices were in perfect unison as if practiced a hundred times, and the power felt from the pair began to radiate making the group take a step back. It was as if morning had broken, the light was so bright. Moving apart but keeping one hand clasped, Elizabett and Thomas stepped to the edge of the forest, and the trees parted before them, clearing a path. The brilliant light dissipated the dense fog that had blocked Elizabett's senses, and together they walked until they were beyond the first layer of trees. Behind them, the forest closed locking them in.

"Go," Thomas said softly standing in a small clearing. "Go find her."

Elizabett carefully made her way through the forest, her eyes half shut as she let her the Goddess lead the way, guiding her intuition. She passed a stream, and an uprooted tree, walking deeper into the woods. The trees seemed to separate before her, and she followed the path that it left, finally reaching her daughter. Through her relieved tears, Elizabett cut away the brambles and bushes that had grown thick around the child, and Catherine clung to her mother's neck as she was lifted from her hideaway.

"Your safe now. I have you." She cradled Catherine in her arms and rocked her. "Are you hurt? You must be so cold? What possessed you to wander so far? How did you get caught up in those bushes?" A million questions were on Elizabett's lips as she held her child.

"I'm okay," a tiny voice whispered into the crook of her mother's neck. "I was scared but I knew you'd come. The voice inside the light kept talking to me, telling me to stay put, and that you'd come for me. I made the bushes grow to keep me warm."

"You did that?" Elizabett smiled through her tears. "You brave girl." She kissed her daughter's forehead.

Struggling to stand, Elizabett carried Catherine through the woods and back to the clearing where she had left Thomas. He hadn't moved, his eyes anxiously staring into the opening made by the light, willing them to back to safety. When he saw them approach, he let out a heavy sigh of relief and took two strides to engulf them in his arms, smothering them with kisses.

"My girl," he whispered to Catherine. "My sweet girl. I'm so glad you're safe."

Transferring from her mother to Thomas' strong embrace, the little girl wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. Then, together, the family worked their way to the outer rim of the forest. As the trees parted, they stepped into the compound, and a round of cheers echoed up against the darkest and the fog.

"She's all right," Elizabett reassured. "Thank you all for your help. You can't imagine how much I appreciate you support."

Bathilda approached and ran her hand down the child's back. "Oh, sweet thing. I'm glad you're safe. To the hospital wing with you," she instructed and expected Elizabett and Thomas to immediately follow, but they stayed where they were.

Turning to face the fading glow that hovered by the path they had taken in the forest, Elizabett wrapped her right arm around Thomas' waist and placed her left hand on Catherine's back. Thomas tipped his head to kiss the top of Elizabett head, then snuggled Catherine closer. Again in unison, they thanked the deities and the elements for their help, and the light pulsed and faded into itself.

Then, Thomas and Elizabett silently followed the chattering group back to the castle, everyone wrapped in their own thoughts, and no one noticing the dark figure that stood on the knoll watching the events.


	57. 57 Lost Causes

**57 – Lost Causes**

He made sure to get back late from Hogsmeade, making the excuse that he wanted to be certain that all the students had returned. After all, he was Deputy Headmaster, and the safety of the students on this outing was his responsibility. Beside, getting that anonymous warning while in the bookshop sounded far too much like Axius' warning before Christmas. Something was going to happen. Something that would force him to react. The only way he could see to resist Gellert's temptation was to avoid the obvious, to simply not return on time. The message hadn't been clear. Just a few word really. _Today. Beware of the forest. _But, he understood it's meaning. He had been on edge and expecting something for weeks, but he hadn't expected the assault to be directed at school.

Since receiving the message in the middle of the afternoon, he had sensed all sorts of tension but had tried to ignore it, assuming it was merely Gellert's way of drawing him to the trap. But, it was hard, painfully hard, especially when he felt Elizabett's plea for help. _It was just a ruse_, he thought. _Gellert is toying with me_. It was only later when he realized how terribly wrong he had been.

It was dark when he began his trek from the village back to school. He had done his duty and checked every shop, shooing any stragglers back up the path. The feast would begin soon, followed by the dance. He had to speak with Elizabett first. He hadn't forgotten that, but he didn't know how to say what he needed to say. He hoped that the long walk back, alone, would clear his mind and help him straighten out his thoughts. He had managed to convince Horace to return to school with an amorous, young couple they had discovered in a most creative human knot, in an alley by the Madam Puddifoot's. Albus allowed himself to smile briefly. My goodness, the positions people could get themselves into. His smile quickly faded, however, when he crossed the outer boundary of the grounds and closed the gate behind him. The muted feelings that had nagged at him that afternoon were now overwhelming – extreme distress from Elizabett, fear from Catherine, and a variety of emotions ranging from worry to alarm to anger, and then as he reached the top of the path by the lake, relief. His pace quickened as he skirted the black water and the snowy bank.

As Albus cut through the common in the front of the castle and worked his way into the Main Entrance, he was caught in a crowd that had gathered outside the Great Hall.

"Where have you been?" Armando rapidly approached his Deputy. "We've been searching for you." He concern was obvious, and many students gazed on with a mixture of anger and worry.

Albus' brow furrowed. "I'm quite all right," he assured, but before he could ask what was happening, Professors Kettleburn and Merrythought burst through the door, parting the crowd waiting in the hall, and making a clear path to the stairs.

The students stepped aside as Elizabett entered next, followed by Thomas who was carrying Catherine tightly in his arms. As they rapidly made their way up the stairs toward the Hospital Wing, the search party clustered in small groups, joining their friends and colleagues, and relaying the frightening events of the early evening.

Albus pushed his way through the throng, trying to follow his family, but suddenly felt a firm grasp on his forearm.

"It's about bloody well time you showed up," Bathilda seethed. "Catherine's been missing for hours. We've been searching. Where in, Merlin's pants, have you been?" Her eyes flashed, and her aged face turned stone cold.

"I…I… Hogsmeade," he finally stuttered in confusion. "I must go up." He shrugged her hand away and turned to the stairs, taking two at a time. _Oh Gods, what have I done?_

His long strides moved him quickly through the corridor, and by the time he reached the massive double doors of the Hospital Wing, Catherine was being gently lowered from Thomas' arms onto a narrow bed. Heads turned as he strode in, and the fury in Elizabett's eyes was enough to stop him in his tracks.

"I just got back," he tried to explain taking a cautious step closer.

Elizabett anger stopped her from saying anything, but Thomas rounded on him venomously. "Is that your excuse?" he quietly raged, not wanting to disturb Catherine or Madam Prince who was doing a cursory exam. "_I_ was in London." He drove his first finger into his chest. "_I_ knew there was something wrong. How could you not feel your wife's pain from _Hogsmeade_?" he fairly spat, balling his fists, but turning away to avoid further confrontation.

"I'm sorry." Albus shook his head in disbelief, taking another step toward his wife, feeling her utter anguish. Gellert had struck too close to home. Was this a warning to him or to her? He couldn't determine. Axuis' words about Elizabett were coming back, as were his suspicions.

"Sorry's not good enough." She struggled to control the tremble in her voice. "I called for you. I searched for you." She turned, pointing to her temple. "But, I couldn't find you". She drew her fist to her heart. "There was no answer. Nothing. Even Petite went looking for you." She shook her head. Emotionally drained and physically spent, she turned back to her daughter's bed. "I can't take this anymore. I can't," her voice was barely a whisper as she took the child's hand gently in hers.

Albus' thoughts a jumble of emotions, and there was a long pause before he spoke, but when he did, his voice trembled slightly. "And, you shouldn't have to." He moved to stand behind her where she could feel his closeness. "I wanted to speak with you tonight, but I didn't know how to say what needs to be said. Now, it seems so clear." His eyes glistened sadly as he reached to stroke the back of her arm. With a heavy sigh, he began, "I know things haven't been good for a while. There's always something that draws me away. I'm well away of that, and I can't seem to help it." He pressed his lips together and paused, squeezing his eyes shut. "I _do_ love you, and I love Catherine. But, I know my failings as a husband and a father. I've tried, and I want to succeed, but I just can't do it." Elizabett could feel the shudder in his breath as he inhaled slowly. "I'll speak with the proper authorities in the morning. This handparting shouldn't be difficult. All I ask is that you let me remain a part of yours and Catherine's lives. You _are_ very important to me." There was silence for a moment as everyone let the words sink in. "Thomas." Albus eventually turned to the younger man. "I've always liked you. You've always been there for Elizabett and Catherine. I know you'll take good care of my girls." His lips twitched uncomfortably as the other man drew his shoulders back and stood straighter, his face stony.

Thomas tipped his head in acknowledgment, his anger still brimming on the surface, but a new emotion bubbling up from his gut. She could finally be his.

Albus stepped to Catherine's side as the child's droopy eyes struggled to remain open, trying to follow what was going on. He bent to kiss his daughter's forehead, dripping a tear onto her cheek. She sleepily brushed it away with the back of her hand.

"I love you, my dear. I always will, but you deserve…more…than I can give." Albus stood and wiped his own cheeks with the edge of his sleeve. Turning to Elizabett, he struggled, "May I stay?"

With the sadness in his eyes, and heartfelt regret in his voice, Elizabett's resentment crumbled, and she began to weep, her shoulders shaking with the strain, and she nodded. Stepping toward him, she offered her arms, and he grasped onto her like a drowning man. No Time Turner could repair _this_ damage.

"I'm so sorry," he kept repeating to the top of her head, whether it was for the years of inconstant behaviour, or the neglect, or his absence on a day when she needed him the most, she didn't know, but she understood that it was over. And, as much pain as she had in her heart was as much relief that felt for its end.

~~~***~~~

A blazing fire crackled on the hearth casting a flickering light in a semi-circle toward the comfortable chairs and onto the burgundy carpet, leaving the rest of the room in fading darkness. It was late, and he had been patiently waiting for news. Oh, how he wished he could have been there to see the reaction, but the risk would have been too great. He would have to rely on the report.

"Well?" Grindelwald's single-word question sent a terrifying shiver up his informant's spine. There was a nervous pause, and the dark wizard shifted in his seat to peer around the edge of his leather, wing chair. Silence continued. "The process is quite simple," he taunted, rolling the Elder Wand menacingly between his fingertips. "The mouth opens, and words come out. Hogwarts. I want to know what happened and spare no details." He leaned back in to the chair and waited.

The throat cleared, and the voice cracked, but words finally began to form. "Umm. It didn't go as planned, Sir."

Grindelwald leaned forward again, his eyes narrowing at the terrified figure standing several feet away. "Explain."

"As you calculated, it was a Hogsmeade Weekend, and access to the grounds was easy. Dumbledore was in the village with students, as were many other professors. I bypassed the village, and entered the forest on the northeast side, near the river. There was a ward, and I assumed it was part of Hogwarts' security, but it let me pass. I was worried at first, but no one came to investigate. Now, I don't know. There was a light fog, but it didn't seem natural, like it was conjured. By the time I got to the hut by the edge of the forest, there were a number of children playing on the hill. The brat was among them." The voice struggled to get the story out under Grindelwald's intense glare. "I was prepared to carry out your plan, but it seems that someone else had the same sort of thing in mind."

"Explain," he repeated as his eyes narrowed further.

"Someone managed to get Bowtrickles out of hibernation, and they drew the attention of the child. She followed them into the woods where I was."

"And? You couldn't manage the task when it was delivered into your lap?" Grindelwald seethed.

"It was the fog, Sir," the voice shook under duress. "It was oppressive, and got thicker as I moved forward. I couldn't see, and it was choking. When I was finally able to cut through, the child was gone. She'd wandered deeper. I followed her tracks, but when I came upon her, she was surrounded by a strange glow." The voice shifted from panicking excuses to awe. "It was beautiful and warm, but it kept me at a distance. When I cast on it, my spells bounced off. Then, the glow pulsed and got brighter, as if it was keeping her safe."

Grindelwald eased back into the chair, his brow creasing in thought, "So, the power _was_ passed to the next generation." Then, his lips curled upward slightly. "Did she seem afraid?" he addressed his informant.

"Yes, she appeared to be."

"What did she do?" His fingers of his right hand tapped at his lips.

The informant's head shook. "Nothing. She sat down beneath a tree, like she was waiting for something. Bushes began to grow around her."

At that, Grindelwald's left eyebrow rose. "And, the glow?" Grindelwald pressed.

"It stayed with her."

"Waiting for something," Grindelwald thought out loud. "Or, for someone…" He paused. "What happened next?"

"Eventually, the mother showed up. It was strange the way the trees seemed to separate for her, as if leading her to her child. They always did have an irritating bond," the informant's nose wrinkled with distaste. "She found the girl and carried her out."

"Was she alone?"

"Yes, Sir. As far as I could see, but oddly I could sense someone else in the forest, someone familiar, maybe two people."

"Dumbledore?" Grindelwald questioned curiously.

"No, my Lord. Not Dumbledore. I'm not empathic. I can't identify who, but only sense a presence. But, I'd seen Dumbledore in the village as I passed. He was preoccupied." Nerves were back in the voice at the fear of failing further.

Grindelwald gracefully eased himself from his seat, absently twiddling the Elder Wand between his fingers, and approached the figure that was standing at the edge of the light and dark. He gently reached with his free hand to brush the long, golden hair away from a slender shoulder.

"I'm disappointed, my dear." He stepped within a breath's distance, running his nose along the woman's pale cheek to her ear as she involuntarily recoiled at his touch. Smiling at her response and feeling himself harden, he seductively whispered, "But, you _will_ make it up to me."

~~~***~~~

"Are you going to tell us that you gave up a Hogsmeade Weekend to work in the library?" Urbus McNair scoffed from his reclined position on the black, leather sofa as Tom entered the Slytherin Common Room with a rather large book in one hand and his book bag over his left shoulder.

"Which assignment were you working on? I didn't think we had any due?" Cassius Crabbe asked from the depth of the ancient, matching chair, looking stupidly puzzled.

Tom's lips smugly turned up. He liked making them wonder. But, at this moment, making them wonder may lead to assumptions that he didn't want made, so he paused for a moment, facing the boys to answer.

"I was curious about something, and just wanted to figure it out. Nothing important, really. No assignment." He absently shrugged as passed his Housemates and placed the book and bag on the table on the opposite side of the room.

"And, that couldn't wait until later? You missed the action." McNair's broad grin was euphoric.

Without expression, Tom turned back to his Housemates, waiting for an explanation.

"So, you didn't hear, then?" It was more a statement than a question from McNair. At this, several others stopped what they were doing to listen. "The Dumbledore brat got herself lost in the forest. A bunch of professors and seniors went to help with the search. Stupid kid. When they came back, Castlewood was with some other fellow, and he was carrying the girl. She didn't look hurt, just cold and tired."

"Where was Dumbledore?" Tom asked curiously.

"Dunno. Still in the village, I guess. Bagshot was livid with him when he finally _did_ show up. Rumour has it that Castlewood's given him the boot. We know they've been living apart, but I think she finally ended it. Looks like this other fellow's caught her attention now. Lot's younger." McNair and Crabbe snickered at the thought.

Tom returned to the table as the boys continued to make crass comments about the declining state of the Dumbledore family, but his thoughts took a different direction.

Dumbledore didn't react as expected. He thought he'd planned it to the last detail, but he hadn't foreseen the possibility that the thorn-in-his-side would be the last in the village. Everyone else had come back. Why did _he_ stay? Stirring the Bowtrickles had been easy, he smiled, but maybe the fog had been too thick. The smile turned to a thoughtful frown. It was merely intended to block people from following the child too soon, giving Dumbledore time to get there. But, maybe it blocked people's senses, as well. When Castlewood arrived, she couldn't enter the forest and seemed to be mentally reaching out. He knew she was strong but even she couldn't do it until that other fellow arrived. And, Dumbledore never even showed up. Why? Did he not sense what was going on? He thought Dumbledore was more powerful than that. But, all wasn't lost, his lips twitched up again, with that fellow's help, Castlewood was finally able to get through the fog _and_ the trees, and was able to get the brat out. Curious. Their method had been interesting, nothing like what he'd seen before. They appeared to be a formidable force. It was a different kind of magic, and that was a small piece of information to tuck away for later. He may be able to use it.

_So_, he thought as he hoisted his book bag over his shoulder, _the day hadn't been a complete loss_. Picking up the book, he headed for the stairs that led to the dormitories. He had a lot to think about.


	58. 58 Finding The Courage To Carry On

A/N - Something new, especially for you...

Dani

**58 – Finding The Courage To Carry On**

The kiss was sweet and tender, a brush so light across her lips that it sent a shiver down her spine, just like that first time. Then, he backed away, face pale and drawn, tears brimming on his lashes, and she knew it was over.

The official had asked if the handparting had been agreed on by both parties and was confused to still see love between the pair. He had asked again, and both parties drew breath and hesitantly agreed. Love was one thing. Dedication and commitment were something else, something that Albus wanted but couldn't give, not to her anyway. He would always have a place in Elizabett's heart, and her in his, but they would go their separate ways.

Elizabett stared at the white, plaster ceiling of the bedroom, the grey streaks of dawn beginning to make their appearance around the edges of the navy curtain. She hadn't slept, her mind reeling with the events of the past few days. As promised, the paperwork had been processed quickly; agreements had been made regarding property, and custody of Catherine. Elizabett assured Albus that he could visit whenever he chose, as she wanted to encourage the relationship further. Despite everything, he _did_ care and was still her father. He had made it clear that he wanted to remain a part of her life.

The rest had been easy. After all, it had been a gradual separation, not just from November but years if one really looked at it. She had managed to put up a brave front at the ceremony, and she and Albus had even reminisced and shared poignant smiles. But, the finality struck Elizabett in a way that she hadn't expected. Upon returning home from the Ministry on Friday evening and entering the apartment they had shared for the past eight years, she suddenly felt lost, an emptiness and sorrow that was overwhelming. Once Catherine had been tucked into bed, she climbed into her own and simply laid in the dark, her emotions consuming and oppressive. Finally, she cried.

The weekend had passed slowly. A miserable, late-February rain pelted the patio window creating streaks of condensation, rivulets of water like tears against the glass. Elizabett and Catherine remained in the apartment safe and warm accepting brief visits from Bathilda and Professor Flaurance. Even the surly Professor Babbling stopped by "just to make sure you're all right" she had grumbled. The Headmaster had excused both Elizabett and Albus of their weekend duties to give them a break from prying eyes and ears.

But now, as morning broke, a new day would begin. Life would go on. And, as everyone knew, there were few secrets at Hogwarts. This Monday morning would be a test of courage and resilience.

Albus stood before his wardrobe, staring blankly at the neatly arranged hangers of robes. Dark brown, tan with chocolate trim, navy with white edging, sky blue with navy stars and moons, classic formal black, organized by use and importance. In the deep recesses of the closet, he could spy the white, linen robe with silver trim that was kept neatly hung under a protective spell. His wedding robe. His heart was heavy. He never thought he would ever feel this way again, having steeled himself against it ever since his youthful disappointment with Gellert. He reached back and fingered the soft material. It had been a beautiful day. She had been a wonderful wife. And, he had destroyed it. _What was wrong with him?_ he sourly thought as he angrily pulled a common, dark brown, work robe from the wardrobe and tossed it carelessly onto the bed. Hastily hauling his nightclothes over his head, he dressed quickly as if trying to escape the well of thoughts threatening to drag him down. He would not drown in sorrow. Not today. He would face the world and whatever it delivered with firm conviction. This had been his choice, not hers. He had to deal with it.

On the Friday night, after getting back from the Ministry, he had contacted Nicholas via the Floo, and the two friends had talked well into the night. Nicholas was saddened by the turn of events and had invited Albus for a visit. It was an easy temptation to flee to the sanctuary of his friend's, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even though Armando had been kind enough to relieve him of corridor duty on Saturday, he had responsibilities to fill as Head of House and Deputy Headmaster, at least that was his excuse. But, Saturday morning found him rooted to his familiar chair by a low burning fire staring blankly at the parchments on his lap. He was getting nowhere.

Horace was the first to pay him a visit that day, bringing a bottle of finely-aged brandy in the hopes that Albus would turn to him for comfort, but he was sorely disappointed when his host placed the bottle on the ancient table by the window and left it unopened, revealing nothing to the Potions Master accept his regret at hurting a wonderful woman.

Professor Merrythought and Armando had made their way to Albus' door by mid-afternoon. And, Bathilda was the last visitor of the day, arriving just before dinner, after having seen Elizabett first. She huffed at him, but surprisingly didn't scold, and relayed that his former wife seemed to be doing fine. He was pleased to hear it, and thanked her for her kindness.

Now, as the week was about to begin, he dreaded what was to come. A loyal house elf had brought a breakfast tray, which he had all but ignored. And, as he reached for his satchel, and turned to leave the simple quarters, the reality of the situation finally hit him, and his confidence waned. Slumping onto the edge of the bed, he rested his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. The handparting had gone smoothly. Elizabett had been gracious and compassionate, and they vowed to remains friends. Now, the weekend was over. What had he done?

Sighing deeply, he silently prayed. _Someone, give me the strength to get through today_.

The whispers that followed in their wake finally died down by lunch. Students were unusually cooperative and quiet, almost sympathetic, and the shuffle between classes seemed to pass in a blur.

It was on the moving staircases between the third and fourth floors when a question startled Albus from a daydream, and he realized that he had been frozen in the middle of the stairwell not moving in either direction.

"Up or down?"

"Pardon?" he asked, snapping back to the moment.

"No offence, but you look as bad as I feel. Where you going up or down?" Elizabett joined him on the middle stair.

He gazed at her. "I can't remember. My mind went completely blank. Up, I think."

"Brain overload." She twitched a small smile. "Looks like you've been having a bad day." She pointed to his usually organized satchel that had an array of parchments and quills overflowing from it.

Albus absently looked down at the messy bag, and sighed dejectedly. "I can't seem to hold a thought today. As you know, I'm usually quite good at compartmentalizing things." He shook his head. "But, not today." He paused for a moment, examining the woman in front of him. "You look tired."

"I am." She twitched another smile that faded quickly. "I haven't been sleeping well," she sighed. "You know, we both knew this was coming, but making it official…" She waved the thought off with her right hand. "I know we've been through this already, but I still feel like I've somehow…failed."

Albus shook his head sadly. "You? Never. Me? Obviously." He sighed and tipped his head toward the sound as the class bell rang. "Story of our lives. Always something to pull me away. Hufflepuff and Gryffindor third-years next. You?"

"Ravenclaw and Slytherin fifth-years," she stated plainly.

"Armando was asking about our seating arrangements at the High Table, whether we were still comfortable sitting next to each other. It seems that neither of us made it to meals this weekend. I think it was his way of asking if we wanted a change." Albus paused. "Do you?"

Elizabett gazed at him, tipping her head pensively to the left. She could feel his aura pulse. It was heavy, full of emotion.

"I have no objection remaining at your side at the High Table. We're still colleagues, and as far as I'm concerned, we're still friends. I'd like to remain that way." Elizabett's lips crept into a small smile as she felt a nearly audible release of tension from him. His smile grew.

"I'd like that, too. Will you join me for dinner tonight? Show them that it's not as bad as some of those rumours that I've been hearing," Albus asked hopefully.

"I'll be there." Elizabett's smile grew wide at the thought. She'd heard those rumours, too. They weren't flattering for either of them. "You do realize that we're now late for class? Third-years. They may start without you, " she chuckled as the familiar twinkle began to shimmer in his eyes.

Taking two steps at a time, he launched himself up the stairs calling over his shoulder. "Six o'clock. I promise."

Elizabett headed back down toward her class on the second floor, the smile fading from her lips. _"I promise"_. She hated those words.

The Great Hall was typically noisy for a Monday evening. Chatter from the House tables drifted toward the enchanted ceiling, creating white noise that left those at the High Table incapable of distinguishing conversations.

The meal was about to be served when Elizabett took her customary seat. Albus' place was vacant, and the first thought to go through Elizabett's mind was _"typical". _Heads turned her way as she nervously unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap, and by the time the plates appeared, she'd lost her appetite. _"I promise",_ he had said. Why should anything change? Mechanically lifting her fork, she was startled by the sudden bustling appearance of Albus up the back steps, all smiles as he slid into place.

"Sorry, I'm late," he apologized. "School business," he continued as he flipped his napkin onto his lap. Catching a sideways glimpse of her reaction, he looked taken aback. "You didn't think I was coming, did you?"

"I don't know what to expect anymore. Please don't promise things you don't know if you can keep." Elizabett was quietly serious. "That was part of our problem."

"Point taken," Albus smiled benignly, and then he opened his mouth and shut it quickly, a broad grin growing on his face.

"What?" Elizabett's brow wrinkled curiously.

"I was going to say, _"__I promise not to do it again", _but I suppose I shouldn't." The mischievous twinkle in his eye made her laugh.

"You're incorrigible." She swatted at him as they both chuckled, the tension of the moment releasing, and familiarity between them obvious.

Ignoring the stares and covert whispers behind hands from teachers and students, the newly parted pair began their meal, cordially discussing their day, and the upcoming week.

"Did I miss something?" Professor Babbling grumbled, leaning toward Professor Flaurance. "Didn't they handpart just last week?"

"I think it's wonderful that they can remain friends. After all, they were friends first, and they obviously still care for each other. Maybe they just can't live with each other. It's none of our business anyway." Professor Flaurance eyed the couple sadly.

"You got that right," Professor Babbling snorted as she began to shovel beef stew into her mouth.

After dinner, Albus and Elizabett strolled back to the apartment. Albus wanted to spend some time with Catherine before checking in with his charges in Gryffindor Tower. As rough and uncertain as the day had begun, by the time he left, they were both feeling a bit more secure in their new situation.

Midnight stars sparkled brightly in the dark sky giving a glittering light for the two birds that made their way to the boundary of Hogwarts. One was a magnificent, Peregrine falcon with a gleaming, hooked beak, and sharp, formidable talons. The other was an ordinary, unassuming barn owl with glossy, yellow eyes, and speckled feathers. Each had a small cylinder tied to its leg, a message for its recipient.

As they passed over Black Lake heading toward the castle, the birds crossed and went their separate ways, one heading toward the greenhouses, and the other to the upper levels of the castle, both eager to end their flight and rest for the night.


	59. 59 Turning The Tide

A/N - Sorry for the delay. Here's the latest installment.

Dani

**59 – Turning The Tide**

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me well and clear. You've grown lazy and stupid. You're letting the _Muggles_ take credit for what you've done," she fairly spat. This wasn't the first time they'd had this argument, but it was the first time she had ever been so bold. "What happened to the intelligent man I knew, the man who took pride and pleasure in the fact that _he_ had created a brilliant scheme to eliminate the Muggles and eventually have them eliminate themselves? Yes, it's working, but you're sitting on the sidelines watching. What fun is that? What happened to your human chess game? You're no longer involved, and _they're_ taking all the credit. Have you grown soft?"

"Watch your tongue, woman," Grindelwald growled from the depth of his dark, leather chair by the hearth, his pale cheeks flushing with anger. "I could destroy you with a flick of my wrist."

"Go right ahead. I really don't care. If you haven't heard already, my life's gone to piss in a pot. I don't think there's much else you can do to me." Elizabett stood her ground in front of him, her back to the growing blaze, her jaw firm. When she received his summons last night, her mind went into a rapid calculation of what she had to do, and her fury grew. Her stomach had roiled all day until she could finally leave after classes. "You had such plans." She softened slightly. "They were so impressive. But, you're sitting here on your backside with your feet to a toasty fire." Her temper began to flare again, and the flames on the grate spiked up the floo. "What in Merlin's pants has gotten into you? You never leave this house. You rely on others to bring you information. Circle and Merlin, Gellert, that's dangerous! Look what happened last summer with Hitler. His own men turned against him right under his nose, right in his own bunker. Do you think that's strictly a Muggle trait? I think not! I know for a fact that some of _your_ people," she pointed an accusing finger at him, "have already turned on you, and some are planning on it."

Grindelwald's eyes narrowed. "What have you heard?" he seethed suspiciously.

"The Rosiers were students of mine. Stupid ones at that. They're still in contact with a number of people at the school, _and_ in our circle. I'm not deaf. I hear things."

Grindelwald silently fumed, tapping his right index finger to his lips, contemplating her tirade. She had always been brave, and these last few years she'd shown a particularly nervy side. But, this outburst was unexpected and bold. Maybe the rumours about her dissolved relationship with Dumbledore had had an effect that he hadn't considered. Maybe she really didn't care about their secret bond anymore. Interesting.

He shifted in his chair to get comfortable again, watching her cautiously. "You say that I'm not involved, that I'm letting the Muggles take control over what's mine. But, the wheels I started turning so many years ago are turning quite nicely, and they're rather amusing to watch. Besides, who do you think instigated the recent Soviet infiltration into Hungary?" He paused for a moment gauging her response. "What more do you suggest I do?" He innocently spread his hands before him.

"I thought you might have had a hand in that," she began flatly. "But again, how involved were you?" She raised a questioning brow. "You need to get out of this house. You need to see for yourself what's going on. Stop relying on others. Whose to say that the information you're getting is accurate or even true? Plus, a scrying dish certainly doesn't give the same thrill as watching events actually happen. It doesn't provide the stimulation, the exhilaration." She balled her fists to her chest, a passion growing in her that she sent his way. "I've seen that look in your eyes." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice, allowing the intensity of the situation to grow. "The one you get when you're truly excited about a plan. It's no longer there," she goaded. "Your eyes are dead. There's no gleam." She waved her hand aimlessly in the air as she straightened. "Gods, Gellert," she burst forth again. "Get off your ass, and do something!" She was exasperated, but paused to let her words sink in.

He watched her for a moment, then sharply stood and took a long stride to face her, stopping just centimetres apart. She startled and wanted to recoil but stood her ground courageously. She could feel his hot breath and could smell the brandy as he hovered over her. They stared at each other for a moment, a silent recognition of certain power between them. Then slowly, his right hand rose to gently stroke her warm cheek, a hint of a malicious smile growing on his lips.

"You take a great chance talking to me like this," he said softly. "But, you're probably the only one who can. It's…intoxicating." He ran the back of his fingers from her cheek down the front of her robe to her chest and grazed her breast, his smile growing wider when she didn't back away. "My, but you _have_ grown bold," he chuckled quietly, slowly cupping her and kneading the soft flesh. Bending to brush his nose along her neck to her ear, Elizabett remained detached and still, letting it happen. But, he surprised her and quickly took a step back. "No," he said calmly. "Not tonight." His eyes bore into hers, and he saw frustration, anger, and the busy halls of Hogwarts with whispering, snickering students who pointed cruelly in Elizabett's direction. "There's no game in this. It would be no fun. You were more entertaining when you fought me." He took a step further away and turned his back to her. "Be gone." He dismissed with a flip of his right hand. "I'll consider your words. Get out of here before I change my mine and take you anyway, fight or not." Elizabett stood rooted in her spot, staring at his back, and Gellert glanced over his shoulder with annoyance. "I said _Go_!" he bellowed.

In what felt like slow motion, Elizabett claimed her cloak from the back of the matching wing chair and took a moment to put it on before turning toward the door. Pausing, it was her turn to glance over her shoulder, and she caught him following her with his eyes. With a deadened face, she shook her head in a way that sent a message that she was disappointed with what he'd become.

Passing through the foyer, she opened the front door and quietly closed it behind her. Confidently striding down the steps and through the brambles and overgrown yard, she pushed through the rusty iron gate. Finally crossing the road and ducking into the alley, her knees began to buckle, and she pressed her back against the cold stone wall for support. She began to shake. It had been a huge risk, but she hoped he'd take the bait. Her Occlumency had been strong while she showed him false images, and he hadn't suspected a thing. Perspiration began to bead on her forehead as she felt the walls of panic close in around her. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the one place that would give her refuge and renew her strength. Gavarnie.

Gellert stood with his back to the door listening for the sound of it closing. When he heard the click, and knew she was gone, he drew a deep breath and lowered himself into his chair. A log on the hearth split and crackled sending sparks up the chimney, and he stared into the yellow-white flame, his chin resting thoughtfully on his right hand.

In all the years they had known each other, they had had their discussions and their differences. He knew she hated him, but curiously she held to her bond as Secret Keeper. She was his confidant, the only one he really trusted, which said something for he trusted no one. She was always forthright and honest, stating her mind whether he wanted to hear it or not. Could there be truth in what she said? Had his focus changed? True, the Muggles had taken hold of his ideas with a passion and had expanded them far beyond what he had ever expected. And, yes, it was thrilling to watch as they eliminated each other. But, she did have a point, he pondered.

The war had reached a feverish peak with the Allies and Axis countries battling for power. Earlier in the month, the Americans had astonishingly crossed the Remagen Bridge over the Rhine River and pushed forth into Germany. The bridge was a German stronghold guarded by _his_ people, and Grindelwald couldn't understand how they had managed it, but they had. And then, came the Soviet march on Hungary in a violent confrontation to liberate Budapest from German rule. That had been one of his operations to regain control of his homeland, and it had worked. The Germans retreated, but he had remained, as she had said, dependant on others for information. He huffed at himself not wanting to admit she might be right.

Then, he suddenly smiled, remembering last summer when he was involved with the Rastenburg Plot. That tingle of excitement at standing in the courtyard and participating in the execution of the mutineers had been amazing. He snorted lightly. She had cajoled him into that as well. Maybe she was right, after all. Maybe it was time to get out again. He smiled to himself once more. In any case, if he hadn't gone to Germany last year, he would never have seen Albus. Ah, that piteous look when he had snuck up behind his old friend and put him under _Impedimenta Totalum_. And, he still reacted to his touch after all these years. A wide grin grew on his lips and lit his face.

As Gellert sat with his thoughts, his fingers absently unzipped on the front of his trousers and slid under the fabric. He sighed. Albus was the past that still lingered, but Elizabett…she was the bold, angry, audacious present. The fire in her was exhilarating, and indeed, _that_ stirred him. She accused him of growing soft. He chuckled to himself. Not by what he felt in his hand at the moment. He gave himself a harsh rub, a new tingle developing. What was he thinking? He'd turned her away. She had angered him, and he wanted to prove that he still had the upper hand. He should have just taken her, satisfied his lust, and then driven her out. He sighed with frustration as his hand worked harder to continue the deed. No. He liked the fight. It made things more interesting. But, she didn't seem to have that kind of fight in her tonight. Gods. Her eyes. Her soft breast. He closed his eyes, his fist tight around himself, the motion ruthlessly pounding out his primal need. Stiffening and then shuddering to his end, he slumped in the seat, allowing his heart to regain a steady rhythm. Pulling his hand from under the material and leaving himself exposed, he gazed at the milky substance on his fingers, a weak, crooked smile twisting his lips. Wiping the hand on the front of his trousers, he nonchalantly reached for his brandy and took a slow sipped. _Not as good as her, or him for that matter, but it will do_, he thought.

Albus' message via the barn owl had been from General Olbricht. The German commander was concerned with the recent instability in both the Muggle and Wizard Axis camps and was once again asking for Albus' help.

Standing outside the derelict black and white manor, hidden by the shadows and a strong Disillusionment Charm, Albus watched the dark building. The strength of the wards could be felt from where he stood indicating that the owner of the house was inside. He had watched this building several times over the past few months, but the wards tonight felt different, more powerful. Maybe the host was entertaining, or more likely was holding a meeting of sorts. His patience might be rewarded, and he may find out who else worked with his nemesis.

Leaning against the side of a small, fieldstone building next to a dingy alley, Albus watched as the black, chipped, front door opened, and a figure confidently emerged. Hidden by the thick foliage in the yard and the burnt-out streetlight, Albus lost sight of the figure until it was nearly in front of him. Suddenly, his breath shuddered as Elizabett passed within close proximity, and he feared she might have heard. _No. No. _The surge of disbelief raced through his head as he instinctively pressed himself against the side of the structure. He recognized her comportment; the look of focused calm, the look she had when she was determined to do something, and knew that her senses were very alert. He quickly cast a sensory dampening charm to hide his presence. As she passed to enter the alley, he backed out of her way but stepped to the entrance in time to see her façade collapse. Although muted by the darkness and the shadows, she crumbled against the stone wall, sweat shining her brow, and then she was gone.

Shocked, Albus turned his attention back to the manor knowing who was inside and feeling his face flush with anger. How had this happened? How could he not know? How long had this been going on? _Why_ was this going on? A thousand questions raced through his mind as he stared at the neglected yard. Seconds passed like minutes, and the minutes like hours, and just when Albus thought he'd had all he could take, another figure arrived. It was going to be a long night.

The fervour of discussion in Muggle Studies during the week prior to Easter Break had stirred most students, and the senior classes openly debated the outcome of the war at all opportunities. Some said that it would end soon as they saw Hitler's state of mind rapidly declining with the unremitting attacks on his country. While others felt that even if something happened to the commander-in-chief of the Nazi Party, the remaining commanders would take over and continue the fight. When the British and the Americans marched more troops across the Rhine and into Germany just after Ostara, the debate magnified. This was something for them to think about over the holiday, and Elizabett assigned an essay that would be the foundation of a formal debate when they returned to class.

However, during the first week of break, the Allies took Frankfurt, and the Germans were on a general retreat. President Eisenhower of the United Stated demanded Germany's surrender. The end may come sooner than anyone anticipated.

"Will you be heading to your parents' during the holiday?" Bathilda asked at a communal lunch held for students and staff.

A number of people had stayed behind for various reasons, but Albus was off doing whatever for the school or Ministry. Elizabett didn't bother to ask anymore. He had been running hot and cold for the past two weeks, sometimes chatting very sociably, while other times staring at her like she had an Engorgement Charm on her head. She was tired of the emotional roller coaster, and had far too much on her mind to worry about his moods.

She and Catherine remained at the school for now, but she and Thomas had planned a rendezvous with the French Resistance at the beginning of the following week to trade information. Elizabett would take Catherine to Castlewood Manor where they would stay for a couple of days before she made an excuse to visit Grandmaman. She knew she would get an argument from her parents for it was far too dangerous a trip, but at the same time, she knew they would give their blessing for they, too, were concerned for the matriarch. In reality, Elizabett had already secretly checked on the old woman during her last visit to mainland Europe, but needed to know if Gellert had taken the bait and gone public yet. Nothing was obvious, and he would be far easier to follow and fight if he could be seen. Damn, if it came down to it, she'd fight him herself.

"Elizabett, dear. Did you hear me?" Bathilda puzzled over the younger woman's lost expression.

Snapping back, she replied with an embarrassed smile, "Yes. Sorry. My parents. They're fine, thank you. Catherine and I will be going for a visit at the end of the week."

Horace snorted as he refilled his plate. "What planet were you on? Bathilda didn't ask how your parents were."

Elizabett nervously glance at her friend.

"But, I did ask if she was going home for the holiday. Leave her alone, Horace." Bathilda patted Elizabett's arm warmly. "She obviously has a lot on her mind."

Elizabett flushed deep crimson as she ducked her head to her meal and pushed the food around her plate.

"Mummy's worried about Great-grandmaman," Catherine chimed from Elizabett's side. "She's in France, and the war's been fighting right at her door. Mummy said the even with the extra charms, Muggle bombs could still break through."

All heads turned to Elizabett in concern. "Where did you hear that?" Elizabett quietly asked the child.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "I've heard you and Daddy talking," she sighed with an air of premature maturity. "And, you and Uncle Thomas are planning to go check on Great-grandmaman when I'm at Grandmaman's."

_Little pitchers have big ears_, Elizabett thought sardonically. She had tried to keep these issues away from her child, but it seemed to be a losing battle. Her little one was growing quickly and appeared to have more understanding of the situation than she predicted.

"Is this true?" Bathilda's wizened face creased in worry. "Oh, I'm sure everything will be fine." She patted Elizabett's arm again making light of the issue for Catherine's benefit but sucked her lips between her teeth as she returned to her lunch.

Horace watched the Muggle Studies professor carefully, an odd yet familiar prickling creeping up the back of his neck. He rubbed the spot curiously. He hadn't had _that_ feeling in years, and wondered why it started again.


	60. 60 The Strength Of Family And Friends

**A/N ****- It's a long one but not the last one. Enjoy. Let me know your thoughts.**

**I've made a couple of minor expansions since yesterday's post.**

**Dani**

**60 – The Strength Of Family And Friends**

"Life is afforded to us by the Goddess. She is the Mother to all who uses a loving hand to guide us on our path. Like any child, we either listen, or we don't. She allows us to make mistakes, but offers alternatives, choices to make changes in our path. It is up to us to decide what we want to do. You, cherie, have both listened and made mistakes. That's what life is about. If we learn from our mistakes, then we become wiser. If we don't, then we will make the same mistake over and over until we learn, and move on. Albus will always be a part of your life. I know part of your heart still loves him, and he loves you. Remember, the Goddess accepted him into our circle. There was a reason for this. His love was true, but there was something in his past that affected his present and will affect his future. He can't seem to let go of it, and it has made him the man he is. Not a bad man." She shook her white head. "But, a troubled man. He wants to do so much for so many that he is far divided."

"You saw this coming a long time ago, didn't you?" Elizabett asked knowing the answer.

"As did you," Grandmaman replied with a forward tilt of her head as she opened the heavy, wooden door to walk onto the balcony. "I had hoped that he would be wise enough to recognize what he had, but this man cannot change the fabric of his very being. It is something deep within. Hopefully, this experience in life will be another learning lesson for him." Grandmaman's thin lips curled into a knowing smile. "You seemed to have learned and moved on." She nodded toward Thomas as he strode across the blooming meadow toward the front of the ancient cottage, the echo of the Mediterranean sounding behind him over the hill. "I remember the two of you as children. I'd never seen two children get along as you did. I remember the laughter…and the tears. Oh, he did tease, didn't he? I, also, remember him at the wedding. He was not a happy man then, angry and hurt. It would seem that _he_ has learned from his mistakes, as well. He was a good-looking boy. Now, what a handsome man." She winked at Elizabett who smiled broadly. "Be happy, cherie." The old woman grasped Elizabett's forearm with gnarled fingers as she headed to the railing to enjoy the cool breeze

Thomas climbed the steps two at a time, and stood before the women with his hands behind his back, grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"What's gotten into you?" Elizabett asked with comic suspicion.

Pulling two bouquets of bright yellow honeysuckle laced with delicate, white edelweiss from behind him, he offered them to the women and bowed deeply. "The beauty of these flowers pale in comparison to the beauty that stands before me." He humbly made his offering.

Grandmaman took a sneaky sidestep to Elizabett and whispered comically out of the corner of her mouth. "Handsome, charming, albeit full of it. Tell me he's good in bed, and you'll have a fight on your hands."

"Grandmaman!" Elizabett laughed as the old matriarch innocently smiled and shrugged. She was happy. Things were finally on the right path. They just needed to learn to hold onto it.

~~~***~~~

Jacob and Evan Rosier proudly stood side by side in a half circle with their colleagues. Cygnus Black stood on Jacob's right while Axius Lestrange stood on Evan's left. Ylan Karkaroff and Vlast Guilderfeld completed the line, silently waiting for their master to speak. It was rare for the secretive Grindelwald to call so many to his home at once. As a matter of fact, Axius couldn't remember the last time there had been more than a handful in the study, even when his master searched for the ill-fated subordinates who had sold information to the Wizard Resistance two years earlier.

Grindelwald lounged in his favourite chair facing his minions, both arms casually placed on the armrests, his face expressionless, but his eyes were cold. He hadn't liked what Elizabett said about the Rosiers, and it nagged at him like a festering sore. They reminded him of salivating dogs, anxious for battle and the taste of blood, and constantly looking for praise. They were eager, too eager according to reports from Ohruf, the death camp in Weimar, Germany where they were posted. In the last few days of the camp, thousands had died at the hands of the German SS and Grindelwald's spies. Evan Rosier, the eldest of the brothers, had been ordered to interfere with the hostilities until Grindelwald could arrive. Elizabett had been right, and he had been looking forward to getting his hands dirty again. However, news of the American advancement into Germany and their goal to liberate the camps had prompted the Muggle forces into action. They had gathered the prisoners and begun a forced march to Buchenwald, the largest death camp on German soil. But, those too weak to walk, those who stumbled, those who couldn't climb onto the few train cars that were available, became fodder for the cruel and sadistic hands of those in charge: Muggle and Wizard alike. It appeared that they had taken far too much pleasure in their task. And, he had missed it! By the time he finally arrived, cloaked under a strong Disillusionment Charm, thousands of emaciated bodies lay several deep in piles throughout the camp, and the Americans were marching in the front gate. He was _not_ happy.

Now, here they stood amongst the faithful, chests puffed with pride at being called with the more experienced and trusted followers. Grindelwald tipped his head ever so slightly to the left as he watched the men. All stood stock still waiting, while the youngest, Jacob, looked like he was ready to bounce out of his shoes. _Patience, boy_.

"Ohruf," Grindelwald began with quiet annoyance, gauging the response of his followers. "You were ordered to wait. Explain," he directed toward Evan, and Jacob's head snapped toward his brother. He knew of the directive, but like the others, had not taken heed. It had been far too tempting.

The older brother nervously cleared his throat. He knew there would be repercussions for his inability to delay the massacre in time for his master to partake. "It was like a madness, Sir," he began forcing a steady voice. "Once it started, there was no stopping it. The Muggles even turned against some of their own officers who stood against the carnage. I tried, but was wounded myself." He pitifully displayed his left arm, but the bandage over the bullet wound was hidden under his sleeve.

"What do you suppose I do? You disobeyed a direct order from me." Grindelwald's jaw flexed angrily.

Evan swallowed hard. "I will accept whatever punishment my master deems fit." He stood straight, his chin raised firmly.

Grindelwald tapped his finger against his lips, a gesture the others had come to recognize as a moment of thought. Elizabett had insinuated that these men, the Rosiers, were plotting against him, but from what he saw they didn't have the nerve. They were followers.

"You were in a position to hear things in the Muggle camp. Give me a piece of information, something of interest, and if I consider it worthwhile, I'll spare your punishment." Grindelwald waited while Evan froze, thinking hard, and thankful for his reprieve, no matter how temporary.

"The Ohruf liberation was only the first in a series. The Americans must be planning more," he said hopefully.

"Guesswork," Grindelwald huffed. "The Germans will suspect this. They'll either move or kill the prisoners before the Americans arrive." Grindelwald rolled the Elder Wand between his fingers. _"Crucio."_ He quickly and quietly cast for a second or so.

Evan gasped and writhed at the sudden onslaught but did not fall. Grindelwald quirked an eyebrow at the man's tenacity.

"Anything else?" he asked as Evan regained his faculties.

The older Rosier thought for a moment. "High officials in the Fuhrer's inner circle are starting to take matters into their own hands. I heard that they don't trust Hitler's judgement anymore and believe he's going mad. He's making irrational decisions and becoming paranoid, like he's under a barrage of Confundus Charms. Still, I heard them making plans for his upcoming birthday."

"What kind of plans?" Grindelwald impatiently tapped the armrest of the chair with his fingertips.

"A party. Lot's of people attending. In Berlin in about two weeks. The Fuhrer isn't well. He wants to stay close to his command post." Evan swallowed hard.

"Interesting," Grindelwald drifted again. This might be something he could use Then, suddenly rising to his feet, he began to snap orders. "Karkaroff, you did well with the Soviet liberation of Hungary. For this, you and Guilderfeld will be my eyes and ears in Berlin. I want to know details. Exact dates and places. I want to know who will be in attendance. Black, I want to know if the British and Americans are planning any surprises for the Fuhrer's birthday. Will they be weak and let him have it, or do they intend to use the opportunity? I want to know what I'm up against." His smile twisted cruelly in thought. "You two." He waved his wand threateningly at the Rosier brothers. "Go back to your posts. Do nothing unless _I_ tell you. Consider yourselves lucky. Today. Cross me again and consider yourselves dead." He spun to face his men. "I'll be involved from here on out. This was _my_ doing. Hitler is _my_ toy. _I_ want to play with him." His leer was wickedly cruel as he dismissed the men. "Axius, stay," he called as the others formed a single line and silently exited the manor. Axuis returned to the study and stood before his master. "You have served me well," Grindelwald began, pacing around the leather chair and warming his hands before the fire. "However, I fear our game is nearly over." He turned to face the Frenchman. "Stand with me. I want you at my side in Berlin. We will make this party spectacular."

Axius snapped his head down in a sharp bow. "Yes, Master." Then, at his dismissal, he spun on his heel and left. As the front door eased shut, a door on the opposite side of the study silently opened, and a figure slunk into the room. Grindelwald didn't move from his position by the hearth.

"There is one task that needs to be done first," he said quietly. "You know what to do. Don't fail me."

With that, the figure crept back out the door and disappeared.

~~~***~~~

Pink and white English primrose with bright yellow centers, tiny, purple ground violets, and bright, yellow cowslips with lily pad-shaped leaves littered the meadow that slopped from the back of the Castlewood Manor to the pond and the protective stand of trees. The early April sun shone warmly as Marceilla and Maude rested on the back terrace, enjoying the last day of Easter Break with their grandchildren. They couldn't believe that the three weeks were nearly up. Edvard had been a frequent guest at Castlewood Manor, just as Catherine had spent time at the Cresswells. The older women chatted over their tea as the children's laughter rang across the field as they raced amongst the flowers and short grass.

By the pond, Edvard hid his face in his hands and counted while Catherine ran to find a hiding spot. "Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine… twenty-nine…twenty-nine…Caty! What comes after twenty-nine?" The four-year-old kept his hands to his face as he called to his friend. "Caty! I can't remember. What comes after twenty-nine?" The child called into the silence. "Well, I'm coming anyway," he announced as he lowered his hands to begin the search.

"Thirty," a familiar female voice answered lowly from the grove trees. Edvard's head spun at the sound. "Hello, Edvard. My goodness, you've grown." Kalina emerged, smiling sweetly at her son as she stepped into the opening. "It's good to see you again. I've missed you." She slowly approached the small boy and knelt to his level.

Edvard didn't move as he watched his mother draw near. His memories of her were distant and unpleasant, and his heart rose into his throat choking him. He didn't know what to do or say.

"I'm sorry I haven't seen you in a long time. I need to apologize for all the horrible things I said and did to you. I was sick, not right in the head." She tapped the index finger of her right hand to her temple. "And, I took it out on you. I'm so sorry." She shook her head sadly. "I want to make it up to you." She reached to stroke her son's arm, and Edvard took a cautious step back. "I don't blame you for not trusting me. I didn't treat you very nicely. Your father and I are working things out so that I can see you more often. He said that I could take you to Diagon alley for ice cream. Would you like that?"

Edvard's little jaw was firm, and he glanced over his shoulder toward the pond to look for his friend. "Me and Caty were playing Hide and Seek," he said.

"She can come, too," Kalina invited with a kind smile. "You used to love chocolate ice cream. Is it still your favourite?" The young woman reached for the boy's hand as she rose. "Call Catherine. See if she wants to join us," Kalina instructed.

Edvard innocently turned toward the pond and called over the water. "Caty! Caty, where are you? You want some ice cream? We're going for ice cream. Wanna come, too?"

Catherine crawled out from under a bush by the water's edge and saw Edvard holding Kalina's hand. The hair on the back of her neck instantly prickled like a warning she had never felt before.

"I don't think you should go," Catherine called back.

"It's all right," Kalina replied sweetly. "I've already spoken with Edvard's father. He said it was okay as long as I have you back by dinner. I understand your caution. I know I wasn't very nice, but I'm better now. I want to make it up to you."

Catherine slowly approached, uncertain of what to do. Her parents had warned her about strangers, but Auntie Kalina wasn't a stranger. She was Edvard's mum, and she _did_ seem like she was sorry.

"I should go tell Grandmaman," Catherine announced.

"I already did. She told me where you were playing. That's how I found you. We can leave from here. Here, take my hand. Let's go get some ice cream." Kalina extended her hand to the little girl.

Catherine hesitated but slowly grasped the woman's fingers.

Kalina's smile twisted slightly as a light "pop" Disapparated the three from the grove.

"Children," Marceilla called from the terrace, scanning the meadow. "Children. Come up for a snack. I have pumpkin juice and biscuits for you."

There was no answer.

~~~***~~~

"It was mid-afternoon," Marceilla explained trying to remain calm. "Maude was visiting with Edvard. We both saw the children in the meadow and by the pond. When I called them up for a snack, they didn't come. We went looking, but couldn't find them anywhere. They were playing Hide and Seek. I don't understand what could have happened. We were right here."

Marceilla and Maude had searched the grove of trees and pond area, as well as all surrounding bushes and brambles. When Thomas, Elizabett, Julius, and Merrick arrived home, the six searched again, this time testing wards and shields that surrounded the property. There was a minor breach, but nothing that seemed to warrant closer attention. It was so small, like that of a small creature. The house elves had even ventured into the nearby neighbours' land just in case the children wandered further. And finally arriving in the early evening, Albus joined the search. There was nothing. No sense of the children anywhere.

In the sitting room of Castlewood Manor, the families posed possibilities of what could have happened.

"The children have been taught to be cautious, and after Catherine's disappearance in February, she would definitely be more careful. She wouldn't wander off." Elizabett was convinced of her child's behaviour.

"There are protections and wards all over the property. With the exception of the small breach by the hedgerow by the pond, there was nothing unusual. Someone would have to know about them or would have known how to bypass them to get in. Only those in this room know that," Julius stated to the group.

"Albus, you work with the Ministry on secretive things, is there anyone who may target you through the children? Anyone you can think of who would do this?" Marceilla directed toward her former son-in-law.

Albus' face hardened. _Yes,_ he thought. But, how did he approach this without stirring up anger and suspicions. He gazed at Elizabett remembering what he had seen weeks earlier.

"There is someone, but as Elizabett said, Catherine would not go with a stranger. She has been taught to protect herself. And, she would not allow Edvard to go with anyone either. We would have seen some evidence of a fight," he assured.

"But, what if they were caught off guard? What if they were put under a spell? What if…?" Maude fretted into her hands as Merrick placed his arm around his wife.

Thomas sat on the arm of the chair next to Elizabett, placing his hand firmly on her shoulder, and gazing knowingly at her. It was time to break the silence.

"Our last contact with the Wizard Resistance gave evidence that he's on the move," he quietly said to Elizabett. "He's planning things again. On your last visit, you provoked him. Got him angry. Do you think this incident was directed at you?" Thomas asked as the others curiously watched on.

"He wouldn't dare. Angry or not, there would be no reason. He trusts me. He would consider what I said, and then act. That's why he called that meeting. He's not just planning, he's going to get involved again," Elizabett replied as her heart beat heavily in her chest and her throat constricted.

"Lizzie, you goaded him. That wouldn't anger him?"

"Of course, it would. But, I had to push. You can't fight what you can't see. Now, he's proved my point. I wonder who was at that meeting? And, if the Resistance knows he's starting something, they'll find out what. But, the children? No, he wouldn't do this, not because of me." Elizabett's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Who?" Julius boomed. "Who did you goad? Who's on the move?"

"Grindelwald," Albus quietly answered to the spin of all heads as he stared at his ex-wife silently fuming. "How long have you been involved with him?"

There was stunned silence as attention diverted back to Elizabett. Thomas placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as her body began to shake.

"It's over, Lizzie. The bond is broken. For the sake of the children, we have to speak."

"You, too?" Merrick gaped at his son.

"I met Gellert when I travelled the continent. Before writing the proposal for the Ministry. He tricked me, and thinks he holds power over me. In some respects he does, did." She wrinkled her brow. "But, what he doesn't know is I've been using him, too." She shook her head. "He confides in me, tells me his plans, because he thinks that I'll tell no one of our bond. And, I didn't. I've worked for years to undo what he's been doing." Her voice became stronger at the horrified looks from her family and friends. "All of the information that I've passed on, the plans for invasions, the plans for attacks, his strategies, who he had in high places. All that I could, I've either given to you," she pointed at Albus, "or you," she pointed at her father, "or the Ministry in other capacities. He threatened to destroy everything if our bond was broken, so I found other ways to thwart his efforts. I've led him to believe that he can trust me."

"You knew him when we met?" Albus seethed.

"Yes," Elizabett quietly answered.

"You met him after we were married?" he questioned again, he cheeks flushing with simmering anger.

"Yes." She swallowed hard. "It wasn't that difficult." Her face hardened with her unspoken insinuation.

There was silence again until Merrick spoke. "You said something about the Resistance." He directed toward his son.

Thomas nodded. "Lizzie and I have been working with the Wizard Resistance in France for years. It was one of the ways that we could stop what was happening, or at least save some of the people."

Albus sat heavily on a stiff chair. This was too much. "You knew she was involved with Grindelwald?" he huffed, not wanting to believe that he had been so ignorant and blind.

Thomas nodded. "I followed her one night and confronted her. The whole story came out."

"But, whatever bond she had with him would have been broken then, wouldn't it?" Marceilla asked.

"It should have been, but I guess because I joined in the bond with her and told no one, it stayed firm. He never knew what was happening." Thomas shrugged.

"Do you think he found out? Is that why the children where taken?" Maude asked.

Elizabett shook her head. "I really don't think so. I really believe that he still trusts me. I don't think this was directed at me." She was completely baffled. "Both children where taken, not just Catherine."

The room fell silent again, each with their own thoughts.

"Edvard could have just been collateral. He could have just been there," Albus thought out loud. Then, he paused and took a deep breath, not wanting to admit what was on his mind. "Marceilla may be right. This may have been directed at me," he finally muttered. "Right before Christmas, I received a message to meet an informant in France. When we met, I was warned that I would be drawn into something that would force me to react. There were no specifics, and when Catherine got lost in February, I thought that was it, that my hand was being forced, and I avoided the situation to prove that I wouldn't be coerced."

"Is _that_ why you didn't help??" Thomas raged. "You thought it was an attack on _you_?"

Albus nodded sheepishly unable to accept that he had put his child's life in danger. "Now this. Catherine again, with Edvard. It could be a way to draw me out. Grindelwald knows I'm hunting him. Maybe he's playing with me."

There was an audible gasp from the older women.

"In other words, our grandchildren are in danger because you have a personal conflict with Gellert Grindelwald," Merrick stated angrily. "Gods, I can't believe my ears. All of you have been involved with this man and kept it from your family?"

"It was for your own safety," Thomas replied quietly to Merrick's "hmpff". "Question is, what do we do now?"

"Who was your informant?" Elizabett efficiently asked Albus.

He paused for a moment before answering. "Axius."

Thomas startled. "You're kidding."

"No, I believe it." Elizabett nodded in thought. "If there was a threat to the family, Axius would find a way to protect us. Regardless of his beliefs toward Muggles or his devotion to Gellert, family would come first. Grandmaman always told me to have faith in him. That he would never betray us." Elizabett's brain was beginning to strategize. "If Axius contacted you," she nodded to Albus, "then I'll contact him. We'll meet at Grandmaman's and find out what he knows."

"I'll get in touch with the Resistance. Let them know what's happened. With all we've done for them, we'll certainly get their support. You almost lost your life on that last mission," Thomas added feeling the adrenaline rise.

"I'll contact the German Resistance. There are a group of high official Wizards in the German military that are on our side. They've identified most, if not all, of Grindelwald's people in high rank and are keeping an eye on them," Albus put in.

"First, we find out what Axius knows. I don't want to rush in and tip Gellert's hand. Just in case he doesn't have them or he does something rash." Elizabett rose and began to pace.

"Will you please stop calling him by his first name? It makes it sound like your friends." Albus challenged to Elizabett's glare.

"Sorry. You're right. But, that familiarity is why he trusts me. Do you have any idea what it's like to listen to a madman, to hear what he intends to do, and know that your hands are tied? I'd been working on my own for years, undermining his ideas, before Thomas found out, and _that_ was by chance. Telling you would have destroyed both of us. I couldn't let that happen. Muggle Studies opened people's eyes and put me in a position to talk to a lot of people about how Muggles behave, but your reputation in the Ministry was too valuable to jeopardize. I couldn't tell you."

Julius recognized the flash in his daughter's eyes and tried to bring the group back on task. "Let's focus on the children, shall we? _I'll_ contact Axius and arrange a meeting in Juan Les Pins. It will be a ruse that we want to be assured of Grandmaman's safety. Then, you will meet him and get the information you need." He pointed to his daughter, and she nodded in agreement. "You said that that the Resistance will help?" He directed toward Thomas who nodded. "I have many business contacts on the continent, if you need any assistance, a place to hide or meet, let me know. I will arrange anything you need." Turning to Albus, he said, "I know much of what you're involved with, but not all. I understand your position. Do what you must, but let us know what's going on, so that we can coordinate what needs to be done. We'll work together on this." Julius turned to face the group, shaking his head. "I cannot believe what has come out of tonight. I feel that I don't know who you are. But, our goal is a common one. We need to get the children back."


	61. notice

March 21.

Sorry folks. I'm not holding out for maximum effect. I really haven't finished the chapter yet. Life, at the moment, is very busy and has taken every spare moment of my time. I'm aiming for next Sunday, but if not, I promise the Sunday after that for sure. No, it's not an Albus "I promise". I carry through unless something critical and out of my control happens, like a computer crash.

Again. Sorry for the delay.

Dani


	62. 61 For The Greater Good

**A/N -Just noticed that when transferring the chapter over, it eliminated the breaks. I'm just adding them in.**

**Dani**

**61 – For The Greater Good**

"You stupid, little Squib." Kalina's lip curled cruelly at her son as he huddled with Catherine in a corner of the dark bedroom. "Ice cream!" She taunted with a shrill laugh, throwing her face to the plastered ceiling. "You wanted ice cream!" Her heckles bounced off the walls and rebounded in the room to heighten the children's fear.

The woman was clearly mad, and Edvard cried harder as his mother mocked him. Catherine's instincts at Castlewood Manor had been right, but there was nothing they could do now but wait. She wrapped her arm comfortingly around her friend.

Kalina's friendly demeanour had abruptly vanished the moment they Disapparated from Catherine's grandparent's home to a deserted house. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and the furniture was covered with dusty, old sheets as Edvard's mother dragged them to the dirty fireplace. Grabbing a handful of ash from the hearth, she shoved the children in, and followed close behind blocking their way out. She muttered the destination, and from there they travel what seemed to be a very long distance. When they arrived at the next place, Catherine quickly glanced around the ramshackle cottage with its burnt kitchen area and broken furniture. It was obviously abandoned, and she couldn't determine where they were, but it certainly didn't look like home. As Kalina hauled them out of the cottage and down a grimy street, Catherine noticed that all the buildings appeared to be run down and deserted. The streets were devoid of all life, and she protectively held onto Edvard's hand determined not to let go. Ducking into a side street, Kalina Apparated them again, this time to a dark and ominous overgrown yard where they were ushered into a large, unkempt house. Being pushed up a flight of stairs and into a tiny bedroom, the children huddle together, alone with this madwoman who had begun to pace the cramped quarters like a caged animal. It seemed, now, as if she was waiting for something or someone, and was anxious to get as far away from the children as soon as possible.

Hours passed slowly, and the tiny flicker of light that shone from the single candle on the dresser cast eerie shadows. The children dozed on and off in their corner.

"What's taking so long?" she muttered impatiently under her breath, chewing on her thumbnail.

Silence seemed to be too much for her, and when Edvard shifted his cramped legs, she cast another nasty retort toward the small boy. Catherine rose in protective defiance.

"He was just moving!" The little girl tipped her pixie face up to meet the older woman, her hands angrily on her hips. "You're a bully! And, you're mean. You're not a nice Mummy at all. All you care about is yourself. I'm glad you left."

"Is that so, you arrogant, little cretin?" Kalina sneered, turning on the little girl. "What would you know about anything? Protected from the world. Everyone's pet. Everyone's star. Everyone's little angel." She waved her hands crazily in the air. "This is all your fault, you know," she viciously accused. "Edvard wouldn't be in such trouble if it weren't for you. I didn't want him. It was you I was after." She pointed a sharp-nailed finger at the child. "I couldn't care less what happens to that useless piece of wadscottle." She dismissed her son with a careless flip of her hand. "He's not worth the scum off my shoe. But, you…my master wanted _you_. It seems _everyone_ wants _you_." Kalina's face twisted nastily.

Catherine was puzzled and confused. She'd never felt such animosity directed toward her before. This kind of hatred was completely foreign, and she could feel the uncontrolled power behind it. It wasn't a good feeling, and she didn't know how to respond. Backing away from Kalina, she eased onto the floor beside Edvard, taking his small hand in hers, a minute measure of comfort between friends.

Kalina continued to stalk the room, positioning herself close to the door, listening, and waiting. Silence fell once more.

"I'm hungry," Edvard quietly whispered to Catherine after a few minutes.

"Me, too," Catherine whispered back.

"I'm hungry. I'm hungry," Kalina jeered maliciously from across the room. It was obvious she was trying to keep her distance from her dreaded spawn as if Edvard carried some horrible contagion. Catherine's eyes narrowed at the taunts, and she scowled at their captor. "Don't look at me like that you spoiled, little princess. Sorry if you're missing your fluffy pillows and pounds of chocolate," Kalina gave with an air of distain. "Poor baby. Wittle Catwine is hungwy," she sneered. "Here. Eat this."

She flourished her wand at a lump of coal on the unlit hearth, and a large, ugly rat appeared. It scurried aimlessly at first, and then headed directly toward the children with its teeth bared as if it had never seen food before. The children jumped to their feet screaming in fear and clinging to each other.

Kalina's laughter rang through the room. That was the last straw. Catherine's fury overrode her fear, and she charged at their captor with a fierce growl, knocking the unsuspecting woman off balance and against the wall. In quick retaliation, Catherine was violently pushed back with a repelling hex, landing hard on the floor beside Edvard, shaking with alarm. Edvard stood, frozen in his spot, and then angrily roared at his mother, his countenance poised, his fists balling at his sides, tension mounting throughout his four-year-old body.

"Oh, do sit down, you stupid, little boy," she indifferently dismissed the child as she started to turn.

"No!" Edvard fiercely cried out. "You're mean, and I hate you! Auntie Lizzie is a better Mummy than you are!"

Kalina's face twisted, turning crimson at the comparison. _How dare he! _She spun to face him again, her wand raised to cast, but Catherine was back on her feet, charging again at the infuriated woman. Raising her wand to strike the little girl, the wooden stick flew from her hand as she was suddenly thrown backward.

"NO!" Edvard shouted, his hands outstretched before him, fury scrunching his chubby face, as he watched his mother hit the wall and slide to the floor. "You leave Caty alone! You don't hurt her!"

With Kalina lying in a stunned heap by the door, Catherine whirled in surprise at Edvard.

"You did it!" Catherine beamed as she ran to give him a hug. Edvard's bottom lip trembled as he watched the motionless form of his mother on the dust-covered floor. "We have to get out of here." Catherine grabbed his hand as they manoeuvred around the body and tested the exit. The door creaked slightly as it opened, and silently they slipped out as Kalina began to stir.

~~~***~~~

"Are you certain?" General Olbricht asked Albus as they stood by the entrance of the alley just off the cobbled street.

"The wards are strong. Stronger than the last time I was here, when he had a…guest." Albus swallowed hard as he answered.

Mr. Prince peered around the corner of the smooth, grey stone building and across the dimly lit street. The early morning sun was just rising over the tops of the surrounding homes casting long shadows onto the cobbles.

"They do seem strong. Are your men in position?" he asked the German general.

"Just waiting for Albus' word. So far, there has been no movement in or out of the manor, no evidence that the children are here. But, if they are and we charge the place, they could be injured. If they're not, then we've ruined any chance of catching Grindelwald another time," Olbricht professionally confided.

There was and then a slight "pop" deeper in the alley, and the men spun to the sound. Elizabett, Thomas, and several members of the French Wizard Resistance appeared behind them. Mr. Prince showed obvious shock at Elizabett's presence, but Albus summoned her to him.

"It's quiet." He positioned his ex-wife in the best vantage point at the edge of the alley. "What do you think? Are they in there?" he anxiously questioned. He knew the connection between Elizabett and their daughter was unusual and strong, and he was certain of a positive answer.

Elizabett gazed at the black and white manor, drew a deep, cleansing breath, and focused her mind. After a brief moment, she replied.

"They have to be. I've rarely felt the wards this intense," she quietly stated.

"What do you mean, _"rarely felt them this intense"_? When have you ever been here? Albus, explain this," Mr. Prince demanded angrily.

Albus ignored the order. "Can you feel her?" he insisted. "You have to feel her. She has to be in there." His attention was on Elizabett who was still focused on the manor.

"No, I can't," she honestly replied. "But, that doesn't mean anything. The wards are set at a level that I've only felt when he doesn't want company. _Something_ is going on in there. I'm going in." Her resolve was firm as she stood to face the others.

"_Doesn't want company? Going in?_ That's madness! If he "_doesn't want company_", what makes you think you can get anywhere near the place. You could ruin everything." He turned to the others for support, then reached out to touch Elizabett's sleeve. "I know you want to help," Mr. Prince began to patronize. "But, you should leave this up to those who know the situation. We know who and what we're dealing with. This is not an ordinary Wizard. This is…dare we tell her?" He briefly glanced at the others before plunging on. "Gellert Gindelwald." He was expecting shock and surprise. He didn't expect her expressionless reaction.

Elizabett carefully examined the Special Task Officer of the Department of International Wizard Cooperation before turning to Thomas and Albus. Her manner was sharp and efficient, a firm resolve that Albus had rarely seen, but Thomas was used to.

"If my assumption is correct," she confidently began, "the gate will be warded shut. The brambles on the front path will be charmed to drag down any unwanted guests who somehow manage to get past the gate. There may be more wards closer to the front door for anyone clever enough to get _that_ far."

"What do you want us to do?" Thomas calmly asked allowing her take control.

"I'll be willing to bet that I can bypass the wards and get into the house." She nodded. "If the children are there, which I strongly suspect, they'll be on the second floor." She turned toward Albus. "If I don't succeed and you need to get in, the stairwell is on the right side when you first enter. The study is the door to the immediate left. Gellert spends a great deal of time there. It's his favourite room. Thomas." She turned to her friend. "You know the layout."

"I've never been upstairs," he was beginning to sound worried.

"It's simple. Four bedrooms in all. Two on the left. Two on the right. At the far end of the hallway facing the stairs is a closet."

"Any idea which room they might be in?" Albus asked.

"A guess? Far left. End of the hall. It's the furthest from the front door. I have a gut feeling that Gellert is expecting me. He may even expect you." She nodded to her ex. "But, I seriously doubt he'll expect the rest of you. He truly doesn't believe I'd risk my reputation or my life to break this stupid bond." Elizabett's temper was beginning to flare, and the energy radiating from her body made the others step back. "He has no idea the length I will go to protect my children."

This dominant countenance was one that Albus had never seen before, and he began to wonder if he ever really knew his wife.

Olbricht ordered his men into position atop some of the homes surrounding the manor while Thomas called the Resistance members to situate themselves on either side of the black and white structure, just outside the reach of the wards. Albus, Mr. Prince, Thomas and General Olbricht waited in the alley as they watched Elizabett cross the cobble street.

She paused at the feel of the first layer of wards, and Albus and Thomas recognized her shoulders resolutely draw back, and her chin lift as she lay her hand on the iron gate. Unwaveringly, she pushed it opened and headed in. Both Thomas and Albus held their breath as they helplessly watched. Without a telltale glance back, Elizabett confidently strode up the path, steadily snapping her wand at the hostile brambles, and climbing the rickety front steps without further incident. Pausing at the door, she raised her hand, placed it on the chipped paint, and pushed. It opened without having to turn the handle, and Elizabett disappeared inside. It seemed she was right. Grindelwald was expecting her.

"Now what?" General Olbricht quietly asked, intently watching the proceedings.

"We trust, and we wait," Albus' reply was steady as he cast an impassive gaze at Thomas.

~~~***~~~

The foyer was as immaculate as Elizabett knew it would be, the polished mahogany and burgundy upholstery giving the room a strong, masculine air. She stood for a moment sensing the wards. There were two that stood out as unusual: a Silencing Charm and an Isolation Charm on the second floor, beginning at the top of the stairwell. Her body shook. The children _had_ to be there. Turning left and heading toward the study, she was surprised that her nemesis had not presented himself as he usually did, but she could sense him in the house.

"Gellert," she called. "I know you're here. I will not conceal my presence."

"And, why should you?" Gellert's serene voice rose from his favourite chair by the unlit hearth in his favourite room. Leaning forward, his lips curled pleasantly upward as she entered, his shoulder length, wavy, blond hair brushing elegantly on his shoulders. "My dear, to what do I owe this pleasure at this early hour?" He politely motioned his hand to offer her a seat. "Tea?"

"No, thank you." Elizabett stepped closer, resting her hands on the backrest, not letting her guard down. She noticed a wand on the side table near his chair.

"You seem upset. Worried. Is there something wrong?" he asked sounding genuinely concerned.

Elizabett decided to play his game. "I feel this war is coming to an end," she began seriously. "So many lives have been lost. Hitler seems to be losing his mind, and others are biting at the bit to take over."

"And, why does this concern you so?" Gellert leaned back, steepling his fingers at his lips, his elbows on the armrests, watching his guest, as she remained standing by the chair.

"You know my family history, Gellert. Few know more than we do what it's like to be persecuted for what we are. It concerns me, because once the Muggles fall, I want the right people in charge. I don't want to be persecuted for who or what I am anymore. Look at what the Nazis did? With your help, of course." She stroked his ego. "They picked certain traits that they wanted to eliminate and systematically went through a list – homosexuals, gypsies, Negroes, Jews. I fear that the wrong Wizards in power may fall to the same systematic elimination of their own kind – those who don't follow the same philosophies, those who practice different types of magick. You always wanted a strong race. Are you willing to sacrifice your own kind for the greater good?"

Gellert watched his guest carefully. She seemed sincere. "I already have." His voice was soft and steady. "Nurmengard and its cemetery are filled with those of our kind who have gone against me. Of course, I would choose only the strongest to lead and survive."

Elizabett's brows furrowed. "Then, you are no better than the Muggles you sought to eliminate." She coolly took a risk.

Gellert smiled and nodded. "It may appear that way, to one who has studied Muggles as you have. Is this the _real_ reason you came?" The left side of his mouth began to teasingly twitch as he studied her.

Taking an even breath, she took a further risk. _Be blunt. He's playing with you. He knows_. "Where's my daughter, Gellert?"

His smile grew tauntingly wide. "Your daughter?" he innocently asked, tapping his chin with his right index finger. "Is she missing? Tsk, what a shame. Maybe our husband, oh, pardon me," he blushingly covered his mouth, "_ex_-husband, has her or knows where she is?"

Elizabett's fingers gripped into the back of the chair as she fought to remain calm. "I'm afraid not," she smoothly replied. "He's away on business. She disappeared from my parents' home yesterday afternoon, and you're the only person I could think of who might have cause to take her, but I can't understand why." She gave him a puzzled look, sending an empathic impression of confusion and concern for her child.

Gellert watched her closely, the smile turning into a leer. In a flash, he was on his feet; a second wand was drawn from the folds of his frock coat and aimed at Elizabett.

"You can't? Really, my dear. Think. Now, I have a matching set. You, alone, are quite a prize, but you _and_ your daughter are a powerful combination. Your wand, if you please," Gellert demanded as he Accio'd Elizabett's wand from her pocket.

~~~***~~~

"Quick. Follow me." Catherine had a solid grip on Edvard's hand as they stepped around a groggy Kalina and slipped out of the bedroom. The direction was easy. There was only one way to turn, so they headed for the stairs.

Utter silence filled the landing, and they dropped to their knees to peer through the banister rails to the foyer below. It was empty. Attempting to creep down the elegant steps, they found themselves invisibly barred at the top.

"Do you honestly think you could just walk out of here?" Kalina appeared behind them. She was unsteady and holding to the wall, but approached with the resolve of a lioness ready to attack. "You stupid children," she seethed, raising her wand to cast.

Instinctively, Catherine lifted her right hand in protection, and as she did a white aura surrounded her and Edvard. Kalina cast, and the spell struck the glow, blinding her, and disrupting the wards. The children grabbed the opportunity and bolted down the stairs.

~~~***~~~

"Well, well, well," a menacing voice sounded from behind the four men waiting in the alley. "Who would have thought that you two would join forces," Cygnus Black snickered, his wand aimed at Thomas's heart as he stretched out his left hand to Albus, a silent demand for Albus' wand. Albus paused. "I would have thought that you two would hate each other," Black continued. "What with Elizabett between you. Luscious little tart, isn't she?" he leered. "No matter. Her brave, little show of walking into our Master's home signalled the rest of us." He tipped his head forward as Jacob and Evan Rosier blocked the entrance of the alley to the street, and Axius Lestrange approach behind his colleague from deeper in the shadow. Two of Gindelwald's henchmen appeared at the iron gate guarding it from trespassers, while several others appeared on the street itself. "Wands," Black demanded with a firm left palm up.

Mr. Prince looked over his shoulder and scoffed at the newcomers. "Is that all?" he foolishly taunted. "We've got more…"

"…at risk here," Albus quickly cut him off, still in possession of his weapon. "We just want my daughter back. Grindelwald is holding her in the manor, and Elizabett went to negotiate her release." He eyed Axius intently.

"Grindelwald has Catherine?" Axius sounded surprised, stepping closer.

"And Edvard," Thomas added seriously. "We've only come for the children."

"Then, why the Nazi?" Jacob suspiciously pointed his wand at General Olbricht who held his hands submissively by his shoulders.

"He knew the way," Albus lied.

"Your wands," Black angrily ordered again as he backed the four men from their hiding spot into the now sunlit street, his weapon pressed tightly to Thomas' chest.

"I think not," General Olbricht replied as his hand shot into the air, fiery red sparks shooting from the end of his wand as Thomas dodged away from Black.

In an instant, the German and French Wizards hidden in the shadows Apparated onto the cobbles and a vicious battle began.

~~~***~~~

Elizabett spun and reached for the door handles catching a glimpse of two small children rapidly descending the staircase before Gellert slammed the study door shut locking her in.

"No need to rush off, my dear." He smoothly approached, twirling the Elder Wand between his fingers. "We have things to discuss, plans to make. You and that darling, little girl of yours carry an ancient magick that make you irresistible. Even with her tainted blood, she still has potential of being a very powerful witch, just like her mother." He was within inches of her face, lowering his cheek to hers. "I trusted you once, but now, I'm not so sure. Is Albus waiting outside?" He whispered softly, and she could feel his breath on her neck. "I bet he is. It's been a while since we've seen each other. Last summer, if I recall. Yes." He smiled gauging her response. "He still rises to my touch even after all these years. Oh, I'm certain it's nothing against you." His lips curled upward at the questioning tilt of her head. "What? He never told you about us? About our summer together? About the plans were shared? I'm surprised he didn't recognize them. But, then again, maybe he did." He shrugged. "We had so many, for the greater good of wizardkind, you know." His grin grew wider. "Ah, but we were much younger then." He took a slight step back.

Elizabett began to angrily shiver, energy building from every limp centering in the core of her body. Albus and Gellert? In association? Shared plans? Impossible.

"You lie!" She forced her arms out, her white aura quickly turning red and a literal ball of energy burst forth from her outstretched hands shoving Gellert backward and over the arm of his chair. He landed hard on his pristine, Oriental carpet.

Grabbing the door handles, she pulled with the might of the Goddess, and swung them open. Racing into the foyer as the children tugged on the sealed front door, she ordered them back."Protego! Bombardia!" Elizabett commanded, her right palm thrust forward, as the children were covered with a white, protective shimmer, and the door exploded outward. A mad shriek from the stairs had Elizabett turn as Kalina launched herself from two steps up, wand waving madly in the air. "Stupify!" missed the mark as Elizabett dodged to protect the children. "Impedimenta!" hit the splintered front door. "Avada Kadavara!" shattered the antique occasional table. The spells were fast and furious but out of control.

Wandless, Elizabett pushed the children out the door and onto the landing as Gellert emerged from the study, red-faced and incensed.

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_ he shouted, and she felt the hex hit her back.

Frozen in her spot, she watched as the children stopped in confusion, giving Kalina enough time to push past the Muggle Studies professor to reclaim her prize.

"NO!" The children fought, kicking and screaming to get loose from their captor.

Stumbling down the steps and onto the overgrown path, Kalina grabbed Catherine's auburn curls with her left hand, drawing the child back to her feet, and raised her wand to silence them. The children grabbed hold of her legs, and a staggering bolt of energy raced up her limbs, through her body, and out her arms. She released her grip and crumbled to the ground twitching and convulsing. The children let go. Slowly, the brambles crept out for their next meal, wrapping their vines around Kalina's rigid body and dragging her in.

"You all right?" Catherine quickly asked Edvard.

He nodded fearfully. "Did we do that?" He pointed to his mother's right foot as it slowly disappeared under the bushes.

"I think so." Catherine shuttered.

The children stared as the brambles began to creep again, but Thomas' strong voice rang over the battle on the opposite side of the gate, stirring them into motion.

"RUN!" he yelled fighting to reach his children.

"Mommy's inside!" Catherine yelled back, screeching as a vine inched up her ankle. "Run, Edvard." She pushed her friend down the path and followed.

At the gate, Thomas and one of the henchmen duelled fiercely as he struggled to get past to open it. Then, to Thomas' surprise, the large guard fell, and the determined hand of a Mediterranean Frenchman pushed at the gate.

"Thank you," Thomas barely whispered as he reached in and pulled the children out.

"Family first," Axius firmly stated as a hex stung his shoulder. He stumbled but didn't fall, shaking off the stunning effect that had grazed him.

"Elizabett." Thomas fearfully glanced to the manor.

A ferocious, female roar echoed over the front yard, and a glistening, bright light burst from the opening of the shattered front door.

"I think she's fine," Axius smiled briefly at Thomas as he continued to fight, clearing a path for the younger man and the children.

Elizabett bolted down the steps, leaping past the brambles as a livid Hungarian gave chase. Out in the open, and seeing the children safe with Thomas, Elizabett abruptly spun to face her nemesis. Her eyes were nearly white, and the blue ring of the Goddess glowed fiercely. Her head was lowered slightly as she watched him approach, and her projective hand steadily began to rise. Gellert had underestimated her strength in the house, and by mere fortitude, she had broken his spell. Now, the words on her lips were soft and foreign, but filled with ancient power, and he was forced to stop."Alma seth formida, Brom file son dimo, con tith remios!"

A whirlwind gathered in the front yard, spinning the dust and debris into a funnel that blew the area clear. Grindelwald tried to step back but was caught by the force. Suddenly, his head tipped back, and his mouth opened to the sky in a silent scream. His arms spread to his sides as he rose in the air like a rag doll buffeting in the wind. The battle stopped in bewilderment, and the henchmen dashed to the gate to help their master, but were violently pushed back by the strength of the storm. Albus stood watching in mystified silence.

Elizabett turned to face the street, a fiery red-white glow radiating from her like rays from the sun, her eyes shimmering white ringed in blue. She strode the balance of the path, pushed past Grindelwald's men, and joined the others on the cobbles.

"Now, what?" Thomas asked as he met her with the children.

"It's temporary," Elizabett breathed, glancing over her shoulder at the suspended dark wizard. "I can't kill."

Axius ran to his cousin, taking a daring chance that the others may retaliate. "Go! Now!" He pushed Thomas, Elizabett, and the children away from the manor as Grindelwald's dazed body fell to the ground. "Take the children. Go somewhere safe. We'll finish this." Axius nodded toward Albus who remained motionless, staring blankly into the yard.

As they turned to leave, a spell whizzed past Albus' head, bringing him back to reality. He instinctively ducked as Thomas spun to cast on Jacob Rosier. The young man's evil glint sent a shiver up Thomas' spine. The Rosiers had once been closely linked with the Cresswells and Castlewoods. How far they had fallen with their desire for purity and power. Madness was the contagion in this war.

"Stop them!" Grindelwald struggled to his feet and dizzily stumbled down the path to the gate. Seeing Albus on the other side, his insane smile grew wide. "Albus, my darling!" He spread his arms offering an embrace. "You didn't tell her about us! About our shared dreams. This was _our_ plan at one time. Don't you recall?" he taunted. "You didn't tell her how you loved me, how I broke your heart? I'm so hurt!" He mockingly placed his left palm on his chest and pouted. "Oh, but then," he laughed manically. "She never told you about her and I either, did she?" He brandished his wand and cast an invisible barrier in front of the running family stopping them from going further. "The years spent together. Cold nights. Warm fires. I cannot simply let her go. She and her child are far too valuable," he calmly explained.

Thomas, Elizabett and the children turned while the others listen to the exchange.

"We know more than you think, Gellert," Albus finally spoke, his face remaining as impassive as possible. "You cannot have them. _This_ fight is between you and me. No one should have to die today."

"Did you _really_ love her, Albus? Or, was she merely a vessel for your seed, an experiment in transference of power?" Grindelwald questioned to his old friend's stony silence. "Fine. As you wish." His lips curled cruelly as his face became feral. "For the greater good!" was his war cry as Grindelwald was the first to cast.

Lunging like a fencer, the personal battle began. The spells came fast and contained an overwhelming combination of fury and passion that few had felt before. The power behind the fight grew, and the earth shook as the others gathered to watch the clash between what the wizard society considered good and evil.

Elizabett turned to face the fight, wanting to help, but knowing that she couldn't. Thomas grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the alley with the children.

"He's a strong wizard, Lizzie. You know that. He can handle himself. It's between them now. We need to get the children to safety." Thomas struggled to draw Elizabett's attention from the battle.

"I want to stay. I can help," Elizabett irrationally pleaded.

"I know you do, but you can't. Look. Even the others are respecting the fight." He turned her so that she could see the gathering of wizards from both sides circling the combatants, but not interfering.

"Mummy, what's going to happen?" Catherine's frightened voice snapped Elizabett back to what needed to be done.

"Daddy will win," she stated confidently. "But, we have to get out of here."

"How do you know?" Catherine asked as Thomas and Elizabett placed their projective hands toward the barrier, casting a twofold _Finite Incantatum _to break the spell_,_ and pulling the children into the alley.

"Because, he's your father, darling. He's a good, strong wizard. I have faith in him," Elizabett answered as she quickly gathered her daughter in her arms, grabbed hold of Thomas who carried Edvard, and Disapparated her family to the safest place she knew.


	63. 62 Epilogue

**A/N - There is a time when all things must come to an end. This ride has been a lot longer than anticipated. What started out as a difficult idea that I thought would only be a few chapters, blossomed into a romance that even I didn't expect.**

**I'm re-writing/editing the trilogy for when I wrote this, I discovered some errors and discrepancies, not to mention, the trilogy was started over three years ago and my quality has certainly improved. I've already started so it shouldn't take too long.**

**Thanks for joining me on this ride. It's been an interesting one.**

**Dani**

**Epilogue**

"Oh, Sweet Merlin! Will you hurry up! You're gorgeous already. Mum's going to have a fit if we're not down there soon!"

"I want to look just right," the young Gryffindor ran the comb through his jet-black ducktail in front of the communal mirror in the Common Room. The fifteen-year-old grinned broadly at his sister, his emerald green eyes glinting mischievously. "After all, it's your big day. Can't shame the family by looking shabby."

Catherine shook her head; the long, auburn waves dancing neatly down her back nearly reaching her backside.

"You're so vain," she laughed at her brother. "You never look shabby. You spend more time in front of a mirror than any girl I know." She came up behind him, her chin resting on his shoulder near his ear. "Who is it you're trying to impress this week?" she whispered with a smirk.

Edvard's grin grew wider as he winked at her in the reflection. "If I told, it wouldn't be as fun. So, I'm not going to say," he teased as he tucked the comb into an inside pocket of his robe and turned to face Catherine, his smile slowly slipping from his face. "We've been through a lot together, you and me." He looked down at his feet and scuffed his toe bashfully into the carpet. "It's not going to be the same here without you."

"Going to miss me, are you?" Catherine fondly reached to draw her hand down his right sleeve.

A lop-sided smile eased up the left side of Edvard's mouth. "Ya," he sighed. "First it was having to listening to you boss as a Prefect, then as Head Girl. Following in your wake won't be easy, and by the time Celeste gets here, I'll be gone. I'll have no one in the family to boss around. You got all the fun."

Catherine chuckled. "You're having your share of fun. They still won't let girls play Quidditch, and I really wanted to play. You're a fantastic Keeper. You know, I always wanted to be a Chaser and never got the chance. Plus, you're top of your class in Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts, so you're not all brawn, you're brains, too." Catherine comically rolled her denim blue eyes and gave a dramatic sigh. "No wonder all the girls are after you! And here, I have no social life."

Edvard took a quick glance around the room, noticing only a few stragglers left behind. Taking a quick step forward, he wrapped his arms around Catherine's slight shoulders and gave her a hug.

"I _am_ going to miss you," he said seriously as he let her go.

They stared at each other fondly for a moment before the portrait hole to the Gryffindor Common Room opened and a young girl with a heart-shaped face, shoulder-length black hair, and unusual blue eyes stepped through.

"There you are," she scolded with her hands on her hips. "Auntie Bathilda says you have to hurry. Caty, you're supposed to be leading the seniors in with the Head Boy. They're already lining up."

Edvard and Catherine glanced sideways at each other and smirked.

"And you thought you'd have a chance of bossing _her_ around," Catherine whispered out of the side of her mouth tipping her head discretely to the eight-year- old. "Not a chance," she chuckled as they followed their sister out.

~~~***~~~

The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement. The long, House tables had been replaced with rows of sturdy, wooden chairs facing the podium where the High Table was usually located. In its place, professors, administration, and officials from the Ministry sat on spindly chairs waiting for the ceremony to commence.

Students and families chatted as they anxiously waiting for the procession to begin. And, as the music started, all took their places and stood to watch.

The procession was solemn and proud, quite a sight as the graduating class of 1956 was led in by the Gryffindor Head Girl and Slytherin Head Boy.

As they separated into Houses and took their seats in the front of the hall, the Headmaster approached the dais, gave an acknowledging bow to the class, and raised his hands to silence the crowd.

"Welcome parents and families, professors and students, and honoured guests," Headmaster Dumbledore began to the hushed gathering. "This is a day full of pride and accomplishments, a day to honour years of hard work and successes. It is a day to remember the good times, and look forward to what is to come, taking the next leap into life's exciting journey."

He continued for several minutes discussing the events of the past year, congratulating Ravenclaw on winning the House Cup, and Gryffindor for their success in winning the Quidditch tournament that year. Then, he invited several Ministry officials to speak, finally calling on two professors to help announce and dispense the diplomas.

One by one, the graduating students were called forward. A brief description of their accomplishments and what their future plans were accompanied each introduction, and as Headmaster Dumbledore handed the student the diploma, he smiled proudly and shook each hand.

"Catherine Marceilla Dumbledore."

Catherine nervously rose from her seat and inched her way across the row until she could step onto the walkway that led to the dais. As she climbed the steps, her introduction began.

"There has never been a student so meant to be at Howarts as Catherine Dumbledore," Professor Bathilda Bagshot began. "As many know, Catherine was born here, just behind the platform, in the anteroom, on a cold December night, right before Christmas break." She pointed over her shoulder with a smile. "I know. I was there." She tipped her grey head knowingly to the crowd. "Raised in the castle, Catherine was exposed to the workings of the school from a young age. She snatched every opportunity to learn, and excelled. How could she not, with parents such as hers? I don't think she had much of a choice," she chuckled with the audience. "Learning was natural for her, but even with certain advantages, like all students who come to Hogwarts, she had to earn her way, and through the years, has proven her worth. A Prefect beginning in her fourth year, and this year achieving the status of Head Girl, Catherine is top of her class in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Ancient Runes, and Herbology. She has accepted an apprenticeship position in Herbology and wishes to become a teacher. We wish her all the best."

Catherine stood solemnly facing her father. Theirs had been a rollercoaster relationship. Albus had tried, but as Catherine had often confided to Edvard or Eileen, his emotions were too inconsistant. She knew she was loved, but through the years, he had begun to distant himself from everyone, keeping all relationships professional. It saddened her to watch as he isolated himself in such a way. But, as she grew older, she began to understand the pain that he had gone through, and felt sorry for him.

Tears glistened in his pale blue eyes as Albus handed his daughter the scroll. The pride within him swelled his chest as he pressed his lips together in a tight smile and slowly inhaled, reaching the parchment in her direction. She took it and smiled back at her father, tipping her head in respectful acknowledgement.

"I am so proud of you," his voice was soft. "Congratulations, my dear."

"Thank you," Catherine replied as she took the scroll, wanting to reach out to hug him, but knowing he would not respond well to the public display. So, she continued toward Bathilda who grasped the young woman's hands in her wizened ones and gave them a squeeze.

"Congratulations," she whispered as she dabbed the corner of her eyes with a small, cotton handkerchief.

Descending the steps on the opposite side of the dais, Catherine looked across the crowd and saw her parents sitting with her younger sister, Celeste. Uncle Thomas had always been a part of her life, always there for her, and there couldn't be more of a difference between her father and her Dad, as she had come to call Thomas. They sat amongst the crowd with sappy, sentimental grins, her mother using the back of her hand to wipe away a stray tear while Thomas beamed at his stepdaughter.

When Catherine finally reached her seat, she stared into a blank distance, her mind drifting to another place, other time.

Her and Edvard's kidnapping by Kalina and the subsequent battle at Gellert Grindelwald's had changed her life forever. She had seen her parents in a light that had never been seen before or since. The strength and power that they exuded was scorched into her mind forever.

Her mother had dragged her away from the battle as the whiz and sparks from her father's wand clashed with Grindelwald's, and they had Apparated to an abandonned castle on the top of a steep mountain: Gavarnie, her mum had called it. A safe place. The enchantments were so ancient and thick that they tingled her skin. And, she could have sworn she heard voices speaking to her from the stone walls. They were soothing and comforting, not frightening at all.

They only stayed for a few days, but it was the turning point in their lives, and the point of no return with her mother and Thomas' relationship. It was obvious, even to four-year-old Edvard that they were a pair, a partnership that was unbeatable, and it made them feel safe and secure after all that had happened. It was a time that solidified the sense of family amongst the four.

Eventually, they returned to Hogwarts to find that Albus had, indeed, triumphed over Grindelwald, receiving the Order of Merlin first class for his efforts, and a multitude of job offers from the Ministry. But, he declined; chosing to remain at Hogwarts claiming his love for teaching prevailed over any other job. The dark wizard had been vanquished to the same prison that he had built for his adversaries, and many of Grindelwald's followers had also been sentence to the prison for their participation in the war, Axius included. However, Axius' actions in the later part of the conflict came to light during his trial, and his sentence was reduced. He had recently been released, but was stripped of his wand, and could not leave the country. But, at least, he was free. She was happy for that. He had helped save her life.

Thomas and Edvard had stayed with them at their apartment, and although her mother managed to finish the school year, her involvement with Grindelwald led to an intense investigation that would eventually ruin her teaching career. Thomas' involvement was never brought to light, but it took more than a year to prove her mum's innocence. Finally, when all was said and done, her actions were seen as heroic, and she was issued an Order of Merlin second class for her role in bringing down the dark wizard. But, the damage had been done.

By this time, however, she had married Thomas, and was dividing their time between Cambridge and Gavarnie, spending full attention on her new family, and teaching the children from home. In time, Catherine and Edvard were enrolled in the Wizard primary school just outside of London.

It wasn't until a few years later, shortly after Celeste was born, when the Ministry approached her mum regarding a position in the Department of International Wizarding Co-Operation. They wanted an instructor, both in Britain and abroad, to teach members of varioius Wizard Ministries how to deal with Muggles, especially in the wake of the war. With her experience, they felt she would be ideal for the job and made an enticing offer. She was able to create her own schedule, leaving plenty of time to devote to her family. She and Thomas even travelled abroad together on occasion as he was still in the Goblin Liason Office.

_Things do work out in the end_, Catherine unconsciously smiled to herself.

~~~***~~~

With the ceremony over and the crowd being ushered outside into the glorious Saturday afternoon, Catherine was surrounded by family and friends. Many passed with hugs and best wishes as they joined their families and left the school grounds for the last time. Others stayed and chatted.

Professor Slughorn and Bathilda puttered by, and Professors Kettleburn and Flaurance wandered up arm in arm. Hagrid even stopped by with a teary face offering Catherine a bone-crushing hug before lumbering off bawling. Professor Babbling and Headmaster Dippet had retired, but sent their regards through Albus.

Marceilla and Julius stood proudly waiting for their turn to congratulate their granddaughter, while Celeste bounced around the gathering extolling the virtues of Hogwarts and how she couldn't wait to get there. Grandmaman Lestrange had wanted to attend but was too feeble to travel so, Marceilla cast a spell on a magical orb to record the events of the day to send to her. She'd be so proud.

Edvard stood shoulder to shoulder with his older sister, as they always had. No two could be as close. Indeed, they had been through a great deal together, and it had forged a bond that no one could break. They were best friends first.

"There's my girl!" Thomas called as he approached, arms outstretched to draw Catherine in. "You are so beautiful. We're so proud of you." He gave her a squeeze and a kiss on her forehead before letting go.

She beamed up at him. He was so open, so easy to love.

"My turn," Elizabett brushed past her husband and reached for her daughter. "Congratulations, Sweetheart." She pulled the girl into an embrace. "We're all having dinner at Grandmaman's. Petit has something special planned. Even your father is going to join us." She smiled.

"Of course, I am." Albus sauntered up grinning broadly. "But, I hope you don't mind if I bring a friend."

The gathering turned to the young, handsome man at Albus' side. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, with jet-black hair, dark, brooding eyes, and the telltale sign of Mediterranian skin.

"I would like to introduce the son of a friend on mine visiting from Italy, Enrico Venici Salvatorini. He's a fellow alchemist." Albus grinned as he presented the man.

As the group nodded and welcomed the newcomer, Enrico stepped toward Catherine, his sparkling black eyes fixed on the young woman as took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips.

"I am most honoured, Signorina."


End file.
